.   •     .  ,    '  .- 

qsr 


"Sign!"  she  commanded — (p.  256). 


IIH1Y.  OK  CALIF.  UttilAKY,  LOS  ANGELES 


HELENE  SAINTE  MAUR. 


(SECRETS  OK  A   BOUDOIR.) 


BY 

ALLEN. 


AUTHOR  OF 

'LUCIA  LASCAR,"  "PHARAOH'S  TREASURE,"  ETC. 


CHICAGO. 
DONOHUE,  HENXEBERRY  &  CO 


COPYRIGHT,  1891, 
BY 

DONOHUE,  HENNEBERRY  &  CO. 


HELENE  SAINTE  MAUR. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE   FRENCH   SKIPPER. 

It  was  twelve  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  November 
10,  1788. 

Two  hours  before  this  the  fog,  which  had  enveloped 
the  English  coast  at  sunrise,  had  fairly  lifted  from  Dover 
to  Folkstone,  affording  from  either  point  a  faint  view  of 
the  ancient  citadel  of  Boulogne,  France. 

At  Dover  the  destinies  of  six  persons  were  being 
determined  ;  at  Boulogne  the  first  act  in  the  drama  of 
their  lives  was  in  preparation. 

At  two  o'clock  precisely,  wind  and  tide  permitting, 
the  only  packet  lying  at  the  Dover  wharf  was  to  leave 
tor  Calais.  It  was  a  French  boat,  and  on  a  pennant 
floating  from  its  white  flagstaff  appeared  the  legend: 

"  La  Charmante;  Felix  Dumesnil,  Commander." 

The  Captain  himself  stood  upon  the  quay.  He  was 
a  man  of  perhaps  fifty,  with  good  features,  but  as  dark 
as  a  Malay.  His  body  was  of  enormous  size,  of  splen- 
did proportions,  and  developed  like  that  of  an  athlete. 

By  the  side  of  this  Titan,  and  scarcely  reaching  to 
his  armpit,  stood  a  slim  young  man  of  twenty-five  or 
less,  with  furtive  black  eyes,  a  very  pale  face,  and  an 
exceedingly  soft  voice.  The  two  were  conversing. 

"  Eight  persons,  if  you  choose,  Captain,"  said  the 
slim  young  man,  in  an  animated  treble;  "and  at  five 
guineas  apiece — do  you  see,  that  makes  forty." 


8  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

"Pardieu,  Monsieur  Paul  Cambray,"  exclaimed  the 
giant,  in  a  voice  that  did  ample  justice  to  his  great  bulk; 
"it  seems  to  me  that  you  are  an  able  calculator,  is  it 
not  so?" 

The  humor  of  the  Captain  was  lost  on  the  youth,  who 
stroked  his  silky  black  moustaches  as  he  answered,  com- 
placently: 

"I  thank  you,  Monsieur."  Then,  as  if  to  account 
for  this  talent,  or  perhaps  to  show  that  it  was  inherited, 
he  added,  "My  grandfather  was  a  financier." 

"  So?"  queried  the  Captain,  satirically. 

"It  is  quite  true,  I  assure  you.  He  discovered  how 
to  spend  five  thousand  livres  a  year  out  of  an  income  of 
three  thousand. " 

"Aha!  that  is  what  our  good  Louis  is  trying  to  do. 
Well,  and  how  did  your  grandfather  end?"  inquired  the 
commander,  drily. 

"Why,  you  see,  he  was  a  veritable  hothead.  When 
I  was  just  seventeen  he  took  me  to  his  tailor  for  an  out- 
fit a  la  mode.  The  tailor  was  a  most  unreasonable  fellow, 
who  insisted  on  a  payment  of  five  hundred  or  so  arrear- 
ages—" 

"Just  like  our  French  farmers,  who  are  refusing  to 
work  for  the  nobility  any  longer  without  pay.  But  go  on." 

"  My  father  was  so  incensed  at  this  demand  that  he 
ran  the  tailor  through.  For  this  he  was  transported, 
but  died  on  the  passage  out.  My  mo  her  then  secured 
me  a  situation  at  Paris,  in  the  department  of  police — " 

"  Parbleu,yes,"  interrupted  his  listener,  impatiently; 
"and  you  have  done  justice  to  your  opportunities 
there." 

"I  think  so,"  assented  Paul, whose  assurance,  at  least, 
was  remarkable.  "And  I  trust  that  what  I  learned 
there  has  been  of  some  service  to  yourself  since  I 
became  your  clerk." 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  9 

"Yes.     But  now,  as  to  these  eight  travelers  who  wish 
to  cross  the  Channel  in  my  boat — saw  you  them?" 
"  Mon  Dieu,  yes,"  answered  Paul,  vehemently. 
"  Well,  then,  describe  them  to  me." 
"Oh,  certainly;  but  you  will  see  them  directly  your- 
self.    You  have  only  to  go  to  the  Ship  Inn,  and  tell  old 
Bailey  Bentinck  that  you  desire  to  see  them;  they  are 
all  there." 

The  Captain  shrugged  his  shoulders;  it  was  like  the 
heaving  of  a  mountain  and  somewhat  disconcerted  his 
dapper  companion  for  a  moment. 

"Patience,  my  friend,"  said  he,  deprecatingly  ;  "I 
must  know  something  about  these  strangers  before  I  go 
to  them.  Do  you  not  know  that  every  stranger  who 
arrives  in  France  now  is  watched  ?  And  if  he  is  from 
England  or  Austria  his  description  is  written  upon  the 
books  of  the  secret  police  within  twenty-four  hours  after 
he  reaches  Paris.  A  thousand  thunders  !  I  will  not  risk 
bad  lodgings  in  La  Force  for  forty — no,  sacre,  not  for 
four  hundred  gu:neas." 

"  But,"  persisted  the  young  man,  "  there  is  no  risk 
whatever  in  this  case." 

"You  think  so.  Well,  describe  these  people." 
"  Listen,  then.  There  are,  to  begin  with,  three  very 
handsome  English  gentlemen.  One  of  the  three  is  Sir 
Philip  Belmore,  immensely  wealthy,  one  of  the  best 
swordsmen  of  the  day,  dark  as  a  raven,  symmetrical  as 
Apollo.  He  has  no  relatives  in  the  world  except  his  two 
half  brothers,  who  are  also  his  companions.  These  are 
Messieurs  Hubert  and  Ralph  Meltham,  who  are  of  exactly 
the  same  size  and  appearance,  decided  blondes  ;  in  fact, 
they  are  twins.  Sir  Philip  is  thirty-seven  and  the  half- 
brothers  are  thirty.  But  the  strangest  thing  is,  they  are 
all  of  the  same  height,  and  as  tall  as  grenadiers;  besides, 
they  are  all  dressed  exactly  alike;  yes,  in  fine  gray  doub- 


IO  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

let  and  hose,  gray  beavers  with  gray  feathers.  Their 
rapiers  are  superb,  and  so  are  their  manners." 

"  Ah,  you  are  a  good  portrait  painter,"  observed  the 
Captain,  eyeing  him  with  curiosity. 

"Thanks,  Monsieur,  my  mother  was  an  excellent  ama- 
teur with  the  brush." 

"And  you  do  excellently  well  with  the  alphabet." 

"  You  may  well  say  so,"  returned  Paul,  eyeing  his 
master  in  his  turn,  but  with  the  utmost  complacency. 

"  Sacrissimo,  proceed." 

"To  be  sure.  The  gentlemen  have  three' varlets; 
one  apiece,  of  course,  all  red-faced  beef-eaters.  Their 
names  are  barbarous,  I  tell  you.  Sir  Philip's  is  called 
James  or  Jeems  Guppy,  Monsieur  Hubert's  is  Peter 
Grosscup,  and  Monsieur  Ralph's  fellow  is  called  William 
Trotter." 

"  Pouf,  enough  of  the  varlets.    Now,  the  last  two  ? " 

"Ah,  ciel!  "  exclaimed  the  youth,  a  sudden  inspira- 
tion flushing  his  pale  face  ;  "  you  ask  me  to  describe  the 
Queen  of  Paradise/' 

"Aha,  a  woman,"  muttered  the  Captain,  looking  a 
trifle  uneasy. 

"A  seraph,"  cried  Paul,  in  a  second  burst  of  enthu- 
siasm, at  which  the  Captain  again  shrugged  his  huge 
shoulders. 

"And  the  name  of  this  celestial  bird?  "  demanded  he, 
ironically. 

"  Mademoiselle  Helene  Sainte  Maur,"  replied  the 
youth,  lifting  his  cap  with  a  reverent  air.  "  She  is  an 
aristocrat  also,  a  Parisienne.  She  is  a  pure,  a  glorious 
blonde,  with  hair  like  sunshine,  a  face  and  neck  like  the 
curd  of  milk,  midnight  brows,  but  eyes  like  the  blue  sea; 
and  like  the  blue  sea  they  are  deep  and  always  in 
motion.  She  is  five  feet  and  four  inches  in  height,  and 
her  figure — ah-h!" 


IIELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  II 

"In  truth,  a  paragon?" 

"Ydu  may  well  say  that." 
.    "Well?" 

"She  is  exactly  twenty-six — " 

"B-r-r-r,"  rumbled  the  giant,  "you  know  her  age, 
then?  Come,  that  is  impossible." 

"  Not  at  all,  I  assure  you." 

"  Never  mind,  that  makes  seven." 

"  Of  course;  there  is  one  more,  that  is  Mademoiselle's 
maid,  Clarise,  a  pretty,  dark  little  grisette,  who  per- 
mitted me  to  kiss  her — small  hand,  when  I  uncorded  her 
box.  Clarise  is  not  yet  nineteen;  she  is  petite  and 
round,  and  her  lips  are  very  red  and  very  sweet,  lean 
tell  you." 

During  this  refreshing  recital,  the  ox-like  eyes  of  the 
skipper  were  rapidly  expanding  with  a  look  of  wonder 
which  he  could  no  longer  repress. 

"Tell  me,  tell  me,"  he  roared,  "how  and  where  you 
learned  so  much  of  these  strangers?" 

"That  is  by  no  means  difficult.  You  sent  me  to 
London  to  receive  from  Malpas,  the  ship  broker,  the 
purchase  money  for  La  Charmante,  Monsieur." 

"Very  true.  And  you,  Monsieur  Paul,  have  arrived 
one  day  later  than  I  expected." 

"  Exactly  ;  and  for  an  excellent  reason,  which  you 
shall  presently  hear.  But,  first  let  me  deliver  the 
money." 

Monsieur  Cambray  now  handed  out  a  package  of 
notes  to  the  Captain,  who  carefully  counted  them, 
placed  them  in  a  large  wallet  which  he  carried  in  a  capa- 
cious waistcoat  pocket,  and  with  a  sigh  looked  at  his 
boat,  as  it  rocked  gently  on  the  water. 

"  And  you  arranged  that  I  should  leave  the  packet 
at  Calais,  after  my  last  trip,  did  you  not? " 

Paul  nodded. 


12  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

"  And  now  for  my  story,"  said  he  ;  "I  think  it  will  re- 
fresh you." 

"  Pouf.  I  hope  so,"  muttered  the  ex-mariner,  ab- 
stractedly. 

"You  must  know,  then,  that  I  am  not  without  a  few 
friends  in  the  foggy  English  city.  So,  instead  of  mop- 
ing in  a  dingy  inn,  while  I  waited  on  old  Malpas,  I 
looked  up  one  Acnille  Dudevant,  a  sociable  young 
journalist  who  left  Paris  for  some  reason  known  only  to 
himself.  He  is  an  old  acquaintance  of  mine,  however, 
whom  I  sometimes  allowed  to  see  a  little  ahead,  when  he 
squeezed  me  for  news  at  the  Prefecture.  Well,  I  found 
him  in  fine  apartments  ;  and  as  he  appeared  glad  to  see 
me  again,  we  sat  down  to  a  bottle  of  sour  Bourdeaux 
which  he  said  sharpened  his  wits  and  his  pen  at  the  same 
moment.  It  certainly  loosened  his  tongue.  Well,  this 
Dudevant  knows  everybody  and  everything,  and  he 
assisted  me  to  a  good  deal  of  information.  He  said — '  By 
Jupiter,  Cambray,  I  desire  to  relieve  myself  of  some  of 
my  obligations  to  you,  and  I  am  thinking  how  I  may 
begin.'  Yes,  he  wanted  to  return  some  of  the  favors  I 
had  formerly  extended  to  him.  Ho,  ho,  Captain,  just 
think  of  that !  Instead  of  being  my  enemy  because  I 
had  helped  him,  he  is  my  friend." 

"An  eccentric,"  murmured  the  commander. 

"I  should  say  so,"  laughed  the  young  cynic;  "all  the 
same  I  love  him  for  it.  To  proceed: 

"My  friend  wanted  to  know  if  you  were  still  my 
employer;  and  if  you  were  still  trying  to  make  the  pas- 
sage of  the  channel  in  six  hours,  when  it  actually  con- 
sumes from  twelve  to  eighteen;  and  if  your  boat  would 
make  a  trip  this  week.  I  told  him  you  would,  on  my 
return  to  Dover,  leave  for  Calais  on  your  last  trip. 
'That  is  fortunate,'  said  my  friend;  and  then  he  pro- 
ceeded to  inform  me  that  some  very  desirable  people  of 


HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR.  13 

his  acquaintance  were  about  to  journey  to  Paris,  by 
way  of  Dover;  and  that  if  I  would  remain  over  in  Lon- 
don one  day  longer  he  could  secure  them  for  me.  In 
your  interest  I  agreed  to  do  so.  He  seemed  gratified 
at  this,  and  went  on  to  give  me  a  full  account  of  the 
party;  and  I  must  confess  that  by  the  time  he  was 
through,  I  felt  rather  well  acquainted  with  them  myself. 
Dudevant  seemed  to  have  some  peculiar  personal  inter- 
est in  the  matter,  besides  the  wish  to  do  me  a  favor. 
Above  all,  I  thought  he  was  strangely  anxious  that  one 
of  the  party,  at  all  events,  should  be  gotten  off. 

"  My  excellent  friend  managed  the  affair  so  well  and 
promptly,  that  we  all  journeyed  to  Dover  in  the  same 
diligence.  I  took  the  whole  party  to  the  Ship  Inn,  of 
course;  and  there  they  are,  waiting  for  you  to  come  to 
them,  so  that  they  may  arrange  with  you  for  their  pas- 
sage." 

"  So,  so,"  mused  the  Captain  of  La  Charmante. 
"Still,  do  you  not  see,  my  friend,  there  is  a  question. 
Six  of  these  travelers  are  English;  and  in  these  uncer- 
tain times  in  France,  the  English  are  distrusted,  I  may 
almost  say  they  are  detested.  It  is  an  easy  matter  to 
get  into  serious  trouble  with  the  Ministers  of  Justice,  if 
one  brings  conspirators  into  the  country." 

"Oh,  but  these  are  not  conspirators,"  insisted  the 
young  man,  earnestly.  "I  have  conversed  with  them, 
all  of  them,  do  you  see?  Besides,  I  received  the  confi- 
dence of  Clarise.  And  what  do  you  think  Clarise  told 
me?" 

"  How  should  I  know?  "  growled  the  Titan,  in  whose 
huge  bosom  there  existed  not  a  particle  of  sentiment; 
"doubtless  some  nonsense  that  would  only  please  a 
mawkish  young  rake,  like  my  clerk." 

"You  do  injustice  to  us  both,  Monsieur,"  protested 
Paul,  stiffening. 


14  HELENE   SAINTE   MA.UR. 

"Well,  let  us  hear  it,  then." 

"  Clarise  is  not  a  gossip,  but  she  knows  a  gentleman," 
continued  the  youth,  with  amusing  gravity.  "  Her  mis- 
tress, she  informed  me — in  confidence,  you  understand — 
has  a  large  income,  and  a  fine  chateau  in  Paris;  but  she 
has  been  recently  doing  London.  Last  week  at  the 
Minister's  ball  she  met  Sir  Philip  Belmore,  who  bestowed 
a  great  deal  of  attention  upon  her  during  the  evening. 
Mademoiselle  told  him  that  she  was  on  the  eve  of 
returning  to  Paris;  whereupon,  Sir  Philip  suddenly  con- 
ceived a  great  desire  to  travel  in  the  same  direction. 

"Now,  Dudevant,  it  appears,  is  a  sort  of  schemer, 
and  has  an  unbounded  admiration  for  her,  and  has  been 
a  sort  of  confidant,  though  he  speaks  of  that  with  some 
spite.  Through  him  it  was  arranged  that  her  party  and 
Sir  Philip's — who  goes  nowhere,  it  seems,  without  his 
two  half-brothers — should  travel  together.  And  here 
they  are." 

After  a  few  moments' reflection,  the  Captain,  who  little 
dreamed  of  the  importance  of  his  decision,  said,  briefly: 

"  I  will  pay  my  respects  to  them.  Go  you  on  board, 
and  wait  my  return." 

And  while  the  young  man  promptly  obeyed  this  wel- 
come order,  the  commander  of  the  packet  started  along 
the  quay  with  a  step  as  active  as  his  own. 


CHAPTER  II. 

SIR  PHILIP  BELMORE. 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  last  century  the  "  Ship  Inn," 
at  Dover,  was  a  famous  post-house.  At  the  date  of  our 
story  it  was  kept  by  a  jovial,  red-faced  Yorkshireman, 
whose  burly  figure  filled  the  low  doorway  as  Captain 
Dumesnil  approached. 

"What,  is  it  Captain  Felix,  himself?"  exclaimed  he, 
bobbing  his  fat  head  with  satisfaction. 

But  the  skipper,  who  was  a  laconic  man,  replied  with 
a  nod,  and  asked  briefly: 

"  Where  are  they,  my  friend  ? " 

"Oh,  ah,"  answered  the  landlord,  a  little  discon- 
certed; "you  mean  the  great  party  from  Lunnun?" 

"  Certainly;  take  me  in  to  the  gentlemen,  or  announce 
me." 

"This  way,  sir,  they  expect  you;"  and  Bailey  led 
his  gigantic  visitor  at  once  into  a  private  parlor.  The 
three  brothers  were  seated  around  a  table,  upon  which 
were  the  remains  of  a  substantial  lunch.  They  were 
abstractedly  staring  at  each  other,  and  the  entrance  of 
the  Captain  seemed  a  relief  to  all  three.  The  eldest, 
Sir  Philipy  looked  up  with  an  affable  smile,  which 
changed  to  a  look  of  interest,  and  pointed  to  a  capacious 
chair,  into  which  the  immense  bulk  of  the  skipper 
quietly  sank. 

"  I  presume  you  have  come  to  carry  us  off  ?"  observed 
Sir  Philip,  measuring  his  grand  proportions  with  an 

admiring  eye. 

15 


16  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

"  With  your  consent,  Messieurs/'  replied  he,  grace- 
fully; and  he  proceeded  to  put  a  few  polite  questions, 
which  Sir  Philip  courteously  answered. 

In  half  an  hour  Captain  Felix  Dumesnil's  scruples, 
if  indeed  he  had  entered  the  room  with  any,  had  been 
completely  removed  by  the  manners  and  conversation 
of  these  charming  travelers.  He  was  a  man  of  some 
culture  himself,  and  their  intelligence  and  wit,  while  it 
delighted  him,  began  also  to  excite  in  his  mind  a 
peculiar  interest,  which  the  brothers  plainly  recipro- 
cated. 

Conversation  had  drifted  toward  .the  situation  in 
France,  a  subject  at  that  time  engrossing  all  Europe. 

"And  what  is  the  'state  of  France/  Captain?" 
inquired  Hubert  Meltham,  who  for  some  minutes  had 
been  cloudily  observing  Sir  Philip. 

The  Frenchman's  brow  wrinkled. 

"That  is  a  very  broad  question,  Monsieur,"  replied 
Dumesnil,  slowly.  "My  poor  France  is  in  a  state  of 
ebullition.  La  Vendee  is  in  a  ferment,  the  corn  crop  in 
Picardy  is  poor —  " 

"And  bread  is  scarce  in  Paris,"  added  Hubert,  as  the 
Captain  hesitated.  "But  the  King?  Does  he  still  pre- 
serve the  same  apathy  in  the  midst  of  the  public  dis- 
tress?" 

Dumesnil  groaned,  as  he  answered  : 

"  Louis  XVI.  is  a  philosopher.  He  is  a  good  man,  but 
a  poor  king.  He  is,  moreover,  bearing  the  burden  of 
sixty  years  of  misrule  in  France.  But  it  is  not  the 
King's  fault  that,  contrary  to  law,  vineyards  are  planted 
where  wheat  would  thrive,  or  that  the  hailstones  fall 
too  often  in  Soissons." 

"And  the  Queen?     Is  she  really  so  unpopular?" 

Dumesnil  shrugged  his  shoulders  expressively. 

"In  every  wine-shop  in  the  Quarters  Saint  Antoine 


"  For  God's  sake,  keep  back" — (p.  18). 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  17 

and  Saint  Marceau,"  replied  he,  grimly,  "you  may  every 
night  hear  some  dog  howl:  'Send  the  Austrian  dairy- 
maid back  to  Vienna  ! '  " 

"  Oh,  but  that  is  only  the  canaille,  the  mob  ;  and  you 
know  the  mob  howls  always  and  everywhere." 

But  Dumesnil,  leaning  forward,  said,  impressively  : 

"  My  friend,  it  is  this  mob  which  will  before  very 
long  rule  at  Versailles." 

At  this  moment  the  conversation  was  startlingly 
interrupted.  The  shrill  outcries  of  a  female  proceeded 
from  the  entry  outside,  then  hurried  footsteps  ap- 
proached, the  door  was  flung  open,  and  a  pretty 
French  girl,  wringing  her  hands  frantically,  burst  into 
the  room. 

"  Help  !  Help  my  mistress  !  "  cried  she  ;  and  before 
a  question  could  be  put  to  her  by  the  astonished  group, 
darted  out  again. 

With  one  impulse  they  hurried  after  the  girl ;  Sir 
Philip  at  their  head,  and  with  the  landlord  following, 
the  whole  party  bolted  pell-mell  into  the  little  private 
parlor  in  which  Mile.  Sainte  Maur  had  been  bestowed. 

There,  in  the  center  of  the  room,  her  supple  body 
bent  over  a  magnificent  Italian  greyhound,  her  small 
white  hands  gripping  the  silver  collar  on  its  swollen 
neck,  stood  the  young  mistress  of  Clarise.  The  animal 
was  struggling  violently,  and  its  glaring  eyes  and  foam- 
ing mouth  gave  unmistakable  signs  of  hydrophobia. 

A  cry  of  horror,  hoarse  and  brief,  and  Sir  Philip 
was  at  the  dog's  throat.  Seizing  it  with  both  hands,  he 
shouted  to  the  panting  girl : 

"Let  go,  and  fly  !  " 

Instantly  releasing  her  hold,  she  retreated  a  few 
steps,  turned,  and  stood  with  heaving  bosom  and  pant- 
ing breath,  her  splendid  eyes  glittering  with  a  strange 


l8  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

light,  as  she  bent  them    fearlessly  upon  the    dog   and 
thence  to  the  dark  face  of  her  rescuer. 

Dumesnil  and  the  rest  would,  of  course,  have  rushed 
in  to  the  assistance  of  Sir  Philip,  but  it  would  have 
been  useless.  Imagine  an  enormous  snake  held  at  the 
throat  by  one  man,  while  its  powerful  body  writhes  in  a 
thousand  convolutions,  and  changes  its  position  every 
instant.  The  one  vulnerable  point  is  the  throat ;  and  if 
the  hand  that  clasps  it  is  displaced  for  the  fraction  of  a 
second  he  is  lost.  Belmore,  therefore,  had  warned  them 
back,  and  repugnant  though  it  was  to  obey,  they  saw 
that  they  would  only  endanger  him  the  more  by  attract- 
ing the  dog's  muzzle  away  from  him,  since  the  powerful 
neck  would  then  join  with  its  body  in  those  fearful  and 
spasmodic  wrenchings  which  rendered  his  hold  upon  it 
so  precarious. 

A  quick  and  fierce  movement  of  the  hound's  head 
flung  the  yellow  foam  from  its  grinning  lips  upon  Bel- 
more's  cheek  and  brow.  Unnoticed  by  him,  the  fatal , 
virus  was  slowly  trickling  toward  his  eye,  when,  with  a 
cry  of  dismay,  the  girl  darted  to  his  side,  and  plucking 
a  handkerchief  from  her  bosom,  brushed  away  the  drops 
with  a  quickness  that  equaled  that  of  the  hound,  and 
sprang  out  of  reach  as  its  jaws  closed  within  an  inch  of 
her  arm. 

Within  that  instant,  for  the  dauntless  act  consumed 
no  more,  Belmore's  eyes  sought  her's  with  an  indescrib- 
able expression;  but  he  only  said,  hoarsely: 

"For  God's  sake,  keep  back!" 

The  efforts  of  the  dog  to  release  itself  grew  momen- 
tarily more  furious.  With  eyes  like  living  coals,  its 
long,  pointed  fangs  clashing  together  with  demoniacal 
fury,  it  writhed  and  bounded,  now  on  one  side,  now  on 
the  other,  of  the  man  who  held  its  sinewy  throat  in  a 
grip  of  iron.  There  was  no  possible  chance  afforded 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  19 

any  one  to  use  a  weapon,  so  lightning-like  were  its 
movements;  but  at  last  its  fearful  struggles  ceased,  with 
a  suddenness  that  threw  its  whole  weight  upon  the  hand 
that  held  it;  the  blood  burst  from  its  flaming  eyes,  and 
the  brute  fell  dead. 

Gasping  for  breath,  and  pale  from  exertion,  Sir  Philip 
was  about  to  draw  his  handkerchief  from  his  pocket, 
when  again  the  fair  stranger  glided  toward  him,  this 
time  unchecked,  and  with  a  quick  and  graceful  motion, 
with  her  own  dainty  mouchoir  wiped  the  dripping  brow 
of  her  deliverer,  murmuring  as  she  did  so,  in  a  voice  of 
singular  sweetness: 

"I  thank  you,  Monsieur!"  And  she  laid  her  hand 
softly  in  his,  with  all  the  eloquence  of  which  that  little 
member  was  capable,  thus  evincing  her  unspoken  grati- 
tude. Belmore's  nervous  palm  closed  over  the  slender 
fingers  with  a  force  that  brought  a  pink  flush  into  her 
wax-like  cheeks. 

We  need  not  describe  the  rapidily  varying  emotions 
of  the  witnesses  of  or  the  actors  in  this  exciting  scene. 
Nor  need  we  say  that  those  experienced  by  Belmore 
were  the  most  intense.  Intense,  indeed,  and  peculiar. 
For  some  seconds  he  stood  aloof  from  the  rest,  without 
motion,  his  unwavering  eyes  drinking  in  the  marvelous 
vision  of  beauty  before  him,  his  parted  lips  breathing  in 
the  subtle  and  strange  perfume  exhaled  from  her  glor- 
ious hair  and  her  soft  gray  drapery,  his  veins  running 
fire  from  the  kindling  touch  of  her  white  hand  as  it  lay 
warm  and  palpitating  in  his. 

While  Belmore,  lost  to  everything  save  the  sibylline 
form  which  filled  his  vision,  stood  gazing  upon  its  fair 
outlines,  his  brothers  gazed  upon  him  wonderingly, 
mournfully.  They  knew  only  too  well  what  fearful  pas- 
sions slept  in  his  dark  blood.  Sometimes,  in  generations 
back,  those  passions  had  flamed  up  in  the  heart  of  a 


20  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

stalwart  knight  cr  a  stately  dame  of  his  house;  and, 
whether  exercised  for  weal  or  woe,  with  good  or  evil 
intent,  those  fiery  energies  had  always  consumed  him 
or  her.  To  Hubert  and  Ralph  Meltham,  who  were 
unselfishly  devoted  to  their  brother,  though  of  divided 
kinship,  what  they  saw  in  his  face  now  was  what  they 
had  always  dreaded  to  see.  Often  had  Hubert,  the 
graver  of  the  two,  said  to  his  brother: 

"Some  day  (and  may  it  be  a  distant  one)  Philip  will 
meet  one  of  those  rare  and  incomprehensible  women 
who  have  the  power  to  re-create  a  man  by  changing  him 
into  an  angel  or  a  devil.  Then  may  God  help  him!  " 

Now,  as  he  looked  into  the  face  of  Sir  Philip,  his 
own  face  blanched;  the  soul  of  Belmore  shone  forth  in 
every  lineament;  for  the  first  time,  and  for  all  time,  it 
had  awakened. 

The  shuddering  gaze  of  the  brothers  turned  toward 
the  woman,  and  still  deeper  emotions  made  their  hearts 
tremble.  With  sentiments  far  different  from  those 
which  agitated  the  bosom  of  their  brother,  they  scanned 
every  detail  of  her  matchless  form,  the  dazzling  fairness 
of  her  face — the  face  of  something  strangely,  vaguely 
familiar  to  them,  surrounded  now  by  disordered  tresses 
of  golden  hair  which  rippled  down  from  the  head  and 
brow  of  a  goddess  and  crept  about  the  creamy  neck  and 
shoulders  of  Juno-like  contour;  her  eyes,  large  and 
azure  blue,  mingling  the  liquid  sea  and  the  serene  sky 
in  their  baffling  depths,  while  they  looked  fixedly  into 
those  of  Sir  Philip,  with  an  expression  to  them,  at  least, 
incomprehensible.  And  gazing  thus  upon  her,  the 
brothers  began  to  feel  that  indescribable  fear  that  comes 
like  an  inspiration  before  a  great  danger  or  a  great  sor- 
row. 

"She  is  a  goddess,"  murmured  Ralph,  despairingly. 


HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR.  21 

Hubert  caught  the  word,  started,  and  turning  to  his 
brother,  exclaimed  : 

"  A  goddess  ?     Yes,  it  is  Diana  herself  !  " 

The  brothers  had  seen  at  Athens  the  marble  imper- 
sonation of  the  fair  immortal,  and  here  before  them,  fill- 
ing them  with  awe,  stood  she,  transformed,  sentient, 
vivified  and  crowned  with  an  aureate  veil. 

Thought  is  a* rapid  traveler  ;  and,  although  to  each 
one  of  the  five  participants  in  that  absorbing  scene 
enough  had  been  revealed  to  create  a  bond  between 
them,  a  bond  that  was  destined  to  fearfully  influence 
the  lives  of  each,  and  to  bring  them  again  and  again 
together  during  the  enactment  of  a  long  and  terrible 
drama,  yet  but  a  few  brief  minutes  had  sufficed  for  all 
this,  when  Helene  Sainte  Maur  turned  softly  away  and 
passed  out  of  the  room,  with  a  mute  sign  to  Clarise  to 
follow  her.  Like  a  groping  dreamer,  Sir  Philip  also 
followed,  without  a  word  or  glance  at  his  brothers,  or 
at  Dumesnil  who  stood  in  the  doorway. 

The  landlord  had  some  time  before  gone  for  a  serv- 
ant to  have  the  dead  hound  removed  from  the  room  ; 
the  two  or  three  servants  who  had  gathered  in  the  hall 
during  the  struggle  had  gone  off,  and  the  two  brothers 
and  the  Captain  were  left  to  themselves  and  their  lugu- 
brious reflections.  They  sat  down  in  silence,  eyeing 
each  other.  The  face  of  the  skipper  expressed  uneasi- 
ness and  perplexity.  Suddenly  he  gave  vent  to  a  mighty 
oath. 

"Million  thunders!"  ejaculated  he,  bringing  his 
ponderous  fist  down  upon  his  knee  with  a  terrible  blow; 
"yes,  it  is  so." 

"Of  what  are  you  thinking,  Monsieur  ?"  inquired 
Hubert,  anxiously  regarding  the  giant. 

"  Gentlemen,"  responded  he,  speaking  with  emphasis, 


22  HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR. 

"decidedly,  Sir  Philip  is  enchanted  with  Mademoiselle. 
I  ask  you  if  it  is  not  so  ! " 

The  brothers,  with  flushed  faces,  answered,  sorrow- 
fully: 

"Unfortunately,  yes." 

"  So.  And  you  think  it  is  not  singular,  this  astound- 
ing power  which  she  has  so  suddenly  acquired  over  his 
mind — his  mind,  mark  you  ?" 

"It  is  certainly  startling,  Captain  Dumesnil,"  con- 
fessed Hubert,  "but  it  is  altogether  beyond  our  compre- 
hension." 

"Precisely;  but  not  beyond  mine,"  said  Dumesnil, 
significantly.  Then,  with  a  mighty  shrug,  the  giant 
uttered  a  sentence  which  caused  the  brothers  to  spring 
to  their  feet  with  a  cry  of  dismay  : 

"  Mademoiselle  Helene  Sainte  Maur  is  a  disciple  of 
the  man  Mesmer  !  " 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  FRENCH  PACKET. 

If  "time  and  tide  wait  for  no  man,"  it  is  none  the 
less  true  that  men  and  ships  must  wait  on  both.  Cer- 
tainly, the  commander  of  the  French  packet  was 
compelled  to  do  so;  and  not  until  six  o'clock  on  the  fol- 
lowing morning  did  he  bring  his  passengers  in  sight  of 
the  ramparts  of  Calais;  thus  giving  point,  as  it  were,  to 
the  irony  of  Monsieur  Achille  Dudevant. 

During  the  waking  hours  occupied  in  crossing  the 
boisterous  strait,  the  worthy  skipper  had  shown  a  taci- 
turnity quite  foreign  to  his  genial  nature,  as  Paul  Cam- 
bray  remarked  to  Hubert  Meltham.  "  However,"  said 
he,  in  explanation,  "  he  is  making  his  last  voyage  in  La 
Charmante;  he  is  also  about  to  retire  from  the  sea 
altogether,  having  acquired  enough  to  keep  him  inde- 
pendently the  balance  of  his  life.  Well,  do  you  see,  he 
is  naturally  sad  at  the  thought  of  so  soon  parting  with 
his  boat,  and  the  breaking  up  of  old  associations." 

But  the  brothers  attached  a  more  serious  meaning  to 
the  grim  silence  of  the  Captain.  Their  own  minds, 
harassed  by  gloomy  and  uneasy  reflections,  had  become 
clarified;  an  effect  invariably  produced  by  trouble. 
Recollecting  the  discovery  Dumesnil  conceived  he  had 
made  concerning  Helene  Sainte  Maur's  relations  with 
the  mysterious  Mesmer  (who  was  generally  regarded 
as  a  master  of  the  "black  art,"  and  held  by  many  in 
dread  or  fear),  they  believed  that  this  was  weighing  upon 
the  commander's  mind,  as  it  certainly  was  upon  their 

own.     They  felt,  too,  a  premonition  of  coming  misfor- 

as 


24  HELENE    SAINTE   MAUR. 

tunes  which  they  did  not  attempt  to  define,  and,  with- 
out being  able  to  explain  why,  they  felt  sure  that  their 
brother's  infatuation  must  sooner  or  later  land  him  in 
an  abyss.  And  yet,  they  knew  they  would  be  powerless 
to  avert  this  peril;  and  this  knowledge  added  to  their 
distress. 

In  the  heart  of  a  man  of  genius  (and  such  a  man 
was  Sir  Philip  Belmore,  as  we  shall  attempt  to  show), 
imbued  with  intense  passions  not  only  of  the  heart  but 
of  the  intellect,  the  love  inspired  by  a  woman  possessing 
the  same  intellectual  attributes,  whether  equal  or  not  to 
his  own,  is  profound,  unconquerable,  irresistible.  If 
his  genius  is  erratic,  his  character,  infirm,  his  nature 
wayward,  his  passions  devour  him  and  wreck  the  one 
to  whom  he  gives  himself.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  his 
character  is  firm,  his  nature  lofty,  he  tempers  the  cur- 
rent, however  powerful  and  swift  it  may  be,  so  that  it 
never  becomes  violent  in  its  demonstration,  never 
extravagant  in  its  manifestation.  The  love  of  such  a 
man  as  this  can  yield  to  the  woman  who  possesses  it 
happiness  as  unbounded  as  it  is — before  she  has  realized 
it — to  her  inconceivable. 

It  was  such  a  character,  such  a  soul,  such  a  self-dis- 
ciplined nature  as  this  that  Helene  Sainte  Maur  was  in 
search  of.  No  other  could  mate  with  her  ;  she  could 
be  content  with  no  humdrum  existence,  such  as  the  mil- 
lions of  fretting  couples  "enjoyed  "  because  they  could 
conceive  of  no  better  existence.  From  all  such  petty 
domestication — amounting  simply  to  a  partnership  of 
little  cares  and  big,  and  a  doubling  of  petty  burdens — 
she  shrank  away  with  the  sensation  of  disgust. 

To  Hubert  and  Ralph  Meltham  this  woman  was 
indeed  "rare  and  incomprehensible."  All  they  knew  of 
her  was  this,  and  all  they  saw  was  that  Sir  Philip  had 
recognized  her  as  the  twin  of  his  soul,  from  whom 


HELEXE   SAINTE   MATJR.  25 

nothing  could  ever  separate  him.  Withal,  the  brothers 
were  impressed  with  an  unreasoning  fear  of  that  occult 
power  which  they  believed  Helene  could  at  will  exert 
over  Sir  Philip.  It  was  the  power  that  Circe  used  upon 
Ulysses ;  but  neither  supernatural  nor — as  science  has 
proved — unexplainable.  But,  how  could  they  baffle  this 
awful  power?  they  asked  themselves.  Ah,  how  indeed  ? 

In  their  perplexity  and  distress  they  sought  counsel 
with  Felix  Dumesnil.  And  Dumesnil  proved  a  wise 
counselor,  and  more — a  generous  friend. 

"  Permit  me  to  propose  a  plan,  my  friends,"  he  said, 
when  they  had  found  him  in  his  snug  little  state-room; 
and  as  he  spoke,  his  great  black  eyes  beamed  on  them 
with  honest  sympathy.  "  A  plan  which  you  are  to  refuse, 
if  it  in  the  least  interferes  with  your  own  wishes.  It  is 
this: 

"When  we  arrive  at  Calais,  I  deliver  my  boat  to  an 
agent  who  will  be  there  to  receive  it.  I  shall  then  be  a 
'discharged  mariner,' and,  with  neither  occupation,  fam- 
ily nor  kindred,  I  may  go  whither  I  will,  and  do  whatever 
best  suits  me.  Well,  what  is  to  prevent  our  taking 
apartments  together  in  Paris  and  keeping  together 
whilst  you  are  in  France,  indeed  ?  Mon  Dieu,  I  know  this 
Paris,  I  tell  you,  and  since  you  do  not,  you  would  find 
the  task  of  watching  over  your  brother  a  difficult  one,  I 
warn  you  of  that.  Mon  Dieu,  it  would  be  impossible. " 

While  Dumesnil  was  advancing  this  proposition,  the 
eyes  of  the  brothers  betrayed  the  liveliest  satisfaction. 
Grasping  his  enormous  hand  warmly,  they  declared  that 
nothing  could  be  more  acceptable  to  them. 

Dumesnil  appeared  pleased.  "  But,  your  brother?' 
queried  he,  a  little  doubtfully. 

"  We  can  answer  for  him,"  replied  Ralph,  confidently. 
"  It  was  only  an  hour  ago  that  he  expressed  the  hope 
that  you  might  be  induced  to  remain  with  us  during  our 


26  HELENE   SAINTE  MAUR. 

stay  in  France.  I  will  go  to  him  at  once,  and  inform 
him  of  our  arrangement.  Come  you,  also,  Hubert." 
And,  with  a  cordial  good-night — for  the  midnight  bells 
were  sounding — the  brothers  departed  to  find  Sir  Philip. 

Usually,  on  a  journey  of  even  a  short  duration, 
travelers  are  impatient  to  arrive  at  their  destination,  and 
will  grumble  at  every  delay.  In  the  case  of  four,  at 
least,  of  the  passengers  of  La  Charmante,  this  pro- 
pensity was  delightfully  wanting.  The  tardy  manner 
in  which  the  smooth  white  hull  plowed  its  way 
through  the  churning  sea  was  amiably  forgiven.  As 
for  Paul  and  Clarise,  for  instan:e,  they  had  been  making 
such  rapid  progress  in  each  other's  regards,  that  at  the 
very  moment  the  agreement  had  been  reached  in  the 
Commander's  room,  an  agreement  which  was  to  increase 
their  own  felicity,  they  were  bidding  each  other  a  tender 
adieu,  interjected  with  dolorous  allusions  to  an  early 
separation,  and  punctuated  with  frequent  sounds  like 
those  produced  when  the  lips  of  two  amorous  people 
come  into  hasty  collision. 

The  more  dignified,  though  much  more  earnest,  dis- 
course between  the  baronet  and  Helene  had  also  con- 
tinued until  a  very  late  hour,  in  the  dim  little  cabin  ; 
and  before  they  had  separated,  Belmore  had  learned 
from  his  fair  companion  as  much  as  she  could  tell  him 
of  her  future  movements. 

"I  shall  go  to  my  hotel,  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Ger- 
main," said  she,  "and  shall  remain  there  .for  a  long 
time  ;  probably  until  -the  unhappy  disturbances  in  the 
provinces  finally  subside.  I  shall  be  delighted  to. see 
you  often,  and  your  brothers  also." 

"  I  shall  not  neglect  your  invitation,  be  assured  of 
that,"  replied  Sir  Philip,  earnestly;  "  and  if  I  can  obtain 
suitable  quarters  for  myself  and  party  in  the  vicinity,  I 
shall  do  so." 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  27 

"Oh,  that  will  not  be  at  all  difficult.  Indeed,  I 
would  advise  you  to  do  so.  The  Faubourg  St.  Germain 
is  the  most  fashionable  quarter  in  Paris.  All  the  Eng- 
lish reside  there — your  own  people.  Besides,  it  is  near 
the  opera;  and  I  am  sure  you  can  obtain  excellent  apart- 
ments near  the  Cafe  Conti — which  faces  the  Pont  Neuf, 
one  of  our  most  lively  thoroughfares.  The  Cafe  Conti, 
too,  is  one  of  the  best  in  the  city." 

Sir  Philip  found  his  brothers  awaiting  him  at  the 
door  of  his  state-room.  He  received  the  intelligence 
they  brought  with  some  surprise,  but  a  great  deal  of 
satisfaction.  He,  a.s  well  as  his  brothers,  had  already 
become  attached  to  the  colossal  skipper. 

A  bright  sun  was  gilding  the  fortifications  of  the  old 
French  town  of  Calais  when  the  packet  entered  the  off- 
ing, and  promised  a  perfect  day  for  the  journey  toward 
the  metropolis.  With  the  exception  of  Hubert  and 
Ralph,  the  party  was  in  the  best  of  spirits,  and  very 
patu-ntly  permitted  the  luggage  to  be  rummaged  at  the 
•  Bureau."  Then,  after  procuring,  by  the  advice  of 
Dumesnil,  "un  passe  avant "  for  each  person,  from  a 
sour-faced  functionary,  they  repaired  to  the  Hotel 
D'Angleterre,  then  the  favorite  post-house  at  Calais, 
where  they  were  served  with  an  excellent  breakfast. 

Seated  around  the  well-spread  table  "quite  like  a 
family  party,"  as  Mile.  Sainte  Maur  smilingly  observed, 
our  travelers  entered  with  great  animation  into  a  gen- 
eral discussion  of  their  several  plans  and  expectations 
after  their  arrival  at  Paris.  The  joy  of  Paul,  upon 
learning,  as  he  now  did,  that  the  whole  programme  of 
the  party  seemed  to  have  been  arranged  with  special 
reference  to  the  wishes  and  pleasure  of  himself  and 
Clarise,  was  unbounded.  He  could  not  wait  to  finish 
his  coffee  before  hurrying  off  to  his  no  less  delighted 
little  confidante,  to  apprise  her  of  their  prospects. 


28  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  meal  the  landlord  was  sum- 
moned, and  the  subject  of  conveyances  broached.  He 
informed  them  that  they  were  especially  fortunate  in 
having  arrived  just  at  that  time.  He  now  had  in  the 
yard,  he  said,  a  fine  berlin  and  four,  a  light  two-wheeled 
chaise  and  pair,  two  thoroughbred  saddle-horses,  and 
several  good  cobs,  all  of  which  had  come  in  the  night 
before,  bearing  a  large  party  of  Englishmen  who  had 
brought  them  from  the  metropolis  and  had  that  morning 
started  over.  Everything,  he  added,  was  at  the  disposi- 
tion of  Mademoiselle  and  the  gentlemen. 

This  information  was  received  with  delight. 

"Nothing could  suit  us  better,"  exclaimed  Sir  Philip, 
who,  the  happiest  of  all  at  that  moment,  was  so  soon  to 
have  his  spirits  dampened,  and  to  find  in  his  path  a 
crested  serpent  which  would  follow  after  him  through 
the  most  momentous  portion  of  his  existence. 

"  We  will  take  everything,"  said  he,  after  the  matter 
was  briefly  discussed"  "have  all  in  readiness  within  an 
hour." 

"And  what  shall  we  do  with  the  hour?"  inquired 
Mile.  Helene,  gayly. 

"  Oh,  pardon,  there  is  the  fortification  and  the 
citadel,'1  suggested  the  landlord;  "they  are  very  strong." 

"That  is  so,"  remarked  Dumesnil,  "and  as  there  is 
very  little  else  of  interest  to  be  seen  in  the  town, 
suppose  we  use  our  hour  in  walking  around  the  walls. 
But  we  shall  find  it  more  pleasant  when  we  meet  the 
gens  d'armes  there,  if  we  wear  the  cockade — " 

"Oh,  I  can  supply  them,  Monsieur,"  and  the  accom- 
modating landlord,  who  seemed  to  have  everything  at 
hand,  disappeared  from  the  room,  returning  presently 
with  a  number  of  those  soiled  cockades  which  were 
supposed  to  denote  the  loyalty  of  the  person  in  whose 
hat  they  were  seen. 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  29 

After  a  circuit  of  the  defenses,  which  consumed 
nearly  an  hour,  our  travelers  again  started  toward  the 
hotel.  As  they  came  in  sight  of  it,  a  party  of  five  gen- 
tlemen, evidently  Frenchmen,  each  of  whom  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  lackey  carrying  a  leathern  bag,  rapidly 
approached  the  inn  from  the  direction  of  the  quay,  and 
entered  the  inn-yard  a  little  in  advance  of  them.  These 
personages,  who  had  just  arrived  in  a  Dover  boat  now 
lying  in  the  harbor,  were  evidently  of  some  consequence 
in  the  eyes  of  the  landlord,  who  met  them  with  great 
deference,  and  who  appeared  to  know  the  title  of  at 
least  one  of  them. 

This  one,  who  was  a  trifle  in  advance  of  his  com- 
panions, glanced  quickly  around  the  yard,  and  remarked 
to  the  one  nearest  him  : 

"Aha,  you  see  that  we  are  again  fortunate  to-day. 
We  arrive  before  the  Englishman  leaves,  and  we  find 
everything  waiting  for  us."  Then,  to  the  landlord, 
who  stood  with  his  hat  held  nervously  in  his  hand, 
"  Sapristi,  mine  host,  I  congratulate  you.  You  have 
provided  well  for  us." 

"What  is  this  you  say,  my  lord?"  inquired  the  host, 
with  a  disturbed  look. 

"Come,  come,"  exclaimed  his  Lordship,  haughtily, 
"you  do  not  listen  well.  We  expected  to  travel  those 
thirty-three  posts  to  Paris  on  the  backs  of  those  sorry 
hacks  which  you  usually  have  here,  since  we  do  not  like 
the  diligence;  but  these  arrangements  that  you  have 
made  are  much  better." 

"Decidedly  so,"  echoed  the  second  of  the  strangers, 
in  a  drawling  tone. 

The  arrangements  were  certainly  good.  While  this 
appreciative  party  was  entering  the  yard,  the  postillions 
were  bringing  in  the  outfits  for  Sir  Philip's  party.  A 
large  berlin  with  four  superb  animals  attached  to  it,  a 


30  HELENK   SAINTE   MAUR. 

light  French  chaise  drawn  by  two  fine  roadsters,  two 
powerful  and  spirited  horses  under  saddle,  and  three 
sturdy  cobs;  such  was  the  inviting  display  which  greeted 
them. 

In  the  booths  of  the  two  vehicles  all  the  luggage  had 
been  snugly  piled,  and  all  that  appeared  to  be  necessary 
now  was  to  pay  the  score  and  start  on  their  journey. 

But  a  quiet  departure  was  not  to  be  permitted  them. 
As  they  approached  the  inn,  the  foremost  of  the  strang- 
ers, who  appeared  to  be  the  leader,  exclaimed  in  a  voice 
unnecessarily  loud  and  irascible: 

"Come,  come,  I  tell  you,  be  quick.  We  wish  to  be 
off." 

"Pardon  me,  my  Lord,"  returned  the  landlord,  bow- 
ing nervously;  "it  would  give  me  great  pleasure,  I  swear 
to  you — " 

"To  the  devil  with  your  'pleasure,'"  cried  the  other, 
angrily.  "It  is  our  pleasure  we  are  considering,  block- 
head. Why,  then,  do  you  not  remove  that  luggage 
from  the  booths,  so  that  our  own  may  be  packed'  in? 
Do  you  suppose  that  we  intend  to  carry  ballast?" 

"  But,  my  Lord  Marquis,"  protested  the  now  thor- 
oughly distressed  boniface,  ''positively,  I  have  nothing 
left  to  provide  you  with.  It  would  give  me  great  pleas- 
ure, I  do  assure  you,  my  Lord  Marquis — " 

"  Sacre.  A  pest  upon  your  'pleasure,'  I  tell  you!  It 
will  be  my  pleasure  to  have  you  kicked — to  your  'sor- 
row' directly,"  shouted  the  now  irate  nobleman. 

"But,  mon  Dieu!"  repeated  the  host,  desperately 
gesticulating  with  his  crumpled  hat;  "  I  swear  to  you 
that  I  have  nothing  left." 

"Nothing  left!  What  do  you  call  all  this  outfit, 
scoundrel?" 

"  Oh,  certainly,  my  Lord  Marquis,  these  are  excellent 
arrangements,  as  you  have  been  pleased  to  say;  but  these 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  31 

guests  have  engaged  everything,  and  here  they  are  now 
ready  to  start,  do  you  see.  Oh,  they  will  tell  you,  my 
Lord;  it  is  true." 

"  Devil  scorch  your  tongue!"  vociferated  the  noble- 
man. "We  want  horses  and  vehicles,  not  words  and 
^xcuses.  And  as  these  are  ready  and  will  serve  our  pur- 
pose exactly,  we  will  take  them." 

And  without  a  glance  at  Sir  Philip  Belmore  or  his 
companions,  who  by  this  time  had  come  up  and  stopped 
to  listen  in  silent  amazement,  the  chief  of  the  party 
ordered  the  lackeys  to  remove  the  luggage  from  the 
booths  and  place  their  own  in  its  stead. 

But  as  the  menials  started  to  obey  this  astonishing 
order  Sir  Philip  stepped  forward.  The  expression  of 
his  eye,  as  it  rested  for  a  moment  upon  them,  boded  no 
good  either  for  themselves  or  their  masters,  and  they 
stopped  abruptly. 

"Sir,"  said  Sir  Philip,  composedly,  addressing  the 
Marquis,  who  turned  quickly  toward  him  with  a  menac- 
ing frown,  "have  you  not  been  told  that  these  equipages 
have  been  engaged  for  myself  and  people,  and  that  this 
luggage  is  ours?" 

"Pooh,"  retorted  the  other,  sneeringly,  while  the 
scowl  on  his  face  deepened,  "  that  is  nothing  to  me." 

The  deliberate  insolence  of  this  reply  was  well  cal- 
culated to  rouse  the  lion  in  such  a  man  as  Belmore,  and 
for  a  single  moment  the  blood  surged  redly  into  his  dark 
cheeks.  But,  like  all  men  of  strong  character,  he  was 
master  of  himself  the  instant  he  reflected.  His  reply  to 
this  insulting  speech,  therefore,  was  quiet  and  firm: 

"  Nevertheless,"  said  he,  fixedly  regarding  the  other, 
"it  disposes  of  the  whole  question." 

The  handsome  yet  sinister  countenance  of  the 
stranger  flamed  with  passion.  Evidently,  he  was  one  of 
those  unfortunates  who  never  acquire  self-control,  who 


32  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

have  little  reverence  and  no  love  for  anything  that  inter- 
feres with  their  own  wishes.  Instantly  turning  on  his 
heel, 

"  Here,  rascals  !  "  cried  he,  gesticulating  violently 
toward  the  lackeys,  who  had  sullenly  awaited  the  result 
of  the  colloquy;  "do  as  I  directed  you,  and  be  quick." 

Again  the  men  started  toward  the  berlin ;  but 
before  they  reached  it,  a  signal  from  Belmore  brought 
the  three  English  valets  instantly  to  the  spot.  They 
were  lusty  fellows,  and  the  eager  light  in  their  eyes 
eloquently  expressed  their  willingness  to  contest  the 
matter  of  dispute  with  the  Frenchmen  in  their  own 
peculiar  way.  Sir  Philip's  man  Guppy,  whose  round 
and  light  blue  eyes  wore  the  stamp  of  honest  good 
nature,  immediately  thrust  his  robust  person  between 
the  lackeys  and  the  side  of  the  berlin,  closely  imitated 
and  in  perfect  silence  by  his  two  sturdy  fellows. 

The  five  dependents  of  the  Marquis'  party  were  for  a 
moment  dumbfounded  by  this  novel  method  of  intro- 
ducing hostilities  ;  but  they  attempted  to  stand  their 
ground,  deeming  it  by  no  means  difficult  to  do  that 
much  at  least,  since  they  were  five  to  three. 

Then  began  a  series  of  pushings,  elbowings,  grim- 
aces, puffings  and  gruntings,  and  sudden  feints,  between 
the  disputants,  so  extremely  ludicrous  as  to  force  a 
smile  from  even  Sir  Philip,  which  broadened  approv- 
ingly as  his  rosy-faced  follower,  displaying  a  surpris- 
ingly fine  set  of  teeth  to  the  scowling  enemy,  said  to 
them  pleasantly: 

"We're  'ere,  gen'J'men  !  as  the  Juke  o'  Marlborough 
said  to  your  Guv'ner  of  Montreuil." 

Now,  the  taking  of  the  French  town  by  the  English 
Duke  was  of  too  recent  occurrence  for  Mr.  Guppy's 
sarcasm  to  be  received  with  indifference  by  the  Marquis 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR,  33 

and  his  friends.  As  for  his  Lordship,  he  turned  pale 
with  fury. 

"  Drive  them  off,  you  rascals,  or  I'll  flay  you  ! " 
shouted  he  to  the  five  varlets  who  were  vainly  trying  to 
push  their  three  robust  "  interferences  "  away  from  the 
doubly  coveted  berlin. 

"  Don't  be  'ard  on  'em,  me  lud  !"  adjured  the  amiable 
Guppy,  as  he  adroitly  jammed  the  hat  of  his  vis-a-vis; 
adding  cheerfully,  "  these  babbies,  sir,  they're  wery 
soft." 

But  in  spite  of  Mr.  Guppy's  generous  advice  to  the 
Marquis,  he  immediately  evinced  a  disposition  to  ignore 
it  himself.  For,  urged  to  more  decided  action  than 
merely  pushing  by  the  sanguinary  threat  of  his  Lord- 
ship, the  lackeys  now  resorted  to  blows,  the  very  first 
of  which  landed  (such  is  the  invariable  return  for  favors 
shown  !)  squarely  on  the  plump  and  comely  cheek  of  the 
humane  Guppy  himself. 

"  Yours  received — and  there's  a  wery  bad  return,  as 
the  man  said  w'en  he  throwed  up  'is  wittals." 

While  delivering  this  observation,  Guppy  had  also 
delivered  a  chin  blow  which  sent  his  assailant  under 
the  wheels  of  the  berlin,  a  place  of  refuge  which  he 
made  no  effort  to  leave. 

"  Give  'im  one,  Villiam  !  Bring  yer  shoulder  for'ard 
w'en  you  'it  !  Lay  'im  down,  Peter — it's  all  in  fighting 
now,  so  don't  reach  for  hanythink  but  'eads,  fellers  ! " 
shouted  Jeems,  as  he  proceeded  to  repeat  the  same 
operation  on  a  tall  fellow  in  front  of  him.  For  five 
minutes  more  there  was  a  general  melee,  a  lively  bob- 
bing of  heads,  a  plunging  of  fists  in  the  direction  of  the 
heads,  and,  as  the  last  of  the  unlucky  Frenchmen  re- 
ceived his  quietus  from  the  invincible  fist  of  the  skilful 
Guppy,  that  fastidious  champion  gravely  shook  his  very 
blonde  head,  and  observed  to  Mr.  Trotter,  pathetically: 


34  HELENE   SATNTE    MAUR. 

"  They  vas  too  soft,  Villiam!  " 

The  valets  were  victorious;  and,  satisfied  of  this,  Sir 
Philip  turned  his  attention  to  the  feminine  portion  of 
his  party.  But,  at  the  very  beginning  of  the  contest, 
Helene  and  her  maid  had  retired  to  the  parlor  of  the  inn, 
accompanied  by  the  landlord,  who  thus  prudently  left 
the  settlement  of  the  difficulty  in  the  hands  of  his 
guests. 

But,  if  the  lackeys  were  rendered  "  hors  de  combat  " 
by  the  valets,  the  difficulty  was  by  no  means  settled,  as 
the  next  chapter  will  show. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  MARQUIS  OF  B 


With  a  contemptuous  glance  at  his  disabled  servants 
who  were  ruefully  mopping  their  bruised  faces  at  the 
yard-pump,  the  obstinate  nobleman  turned  to  his  com- 
panions and  exchanged  a  few  words  with  one  of  them. 
This  one,  a  tall  and  bearded  person  of  grave  aspect,  in 
turn  conferred  with  the  rest  briefly.  The  result  of  their 
deliberations  was  soon  apparent. 

Each  of  the  five  was  enveloped  in  a  talma  of  black 
cloth,  which  entirely  concealed  his  dress,  as  well  as 
the  side  arms  then  invariably  worn  by  gentlemen.  The 
leader,  however,  now  threw  off  his  cloak  as  he  advanced 
to  the  spot  where  Sir  Philip  stood  calmly  awaiting  him. 
He  wore  a  magnificent  court-dress  of  buff  velvet;  the 
collar  of  his  coat  was  decorated  with  orders  emblazoned 
with  jewels,  and  the  sword  at  his  hip  was  of  the  most 
exquisite  workmanship.  His  bearing,  now,  was  no 
longer  that  of  a  brawling  cavalier,  but  that  of  the 
patrician. 

"Sir,"  began  he,  in  a  voice  totally  different  from  its 
previous  tone,  but  cold  and  passionless  as  his  face  now 
was,  "  it  seems,  then,  that  we  must  settle  this  affair  our- 
selves." 

Sir  Philip's  face  exhibited  a  momentary  surprise  as 
he  composedly  surveyed  the  other.  Then,  bowing 
courteously,  he  said  : 

"  If  you  consider  yourself  aggrieved,  Monsieur,  I  am 
at  your  service." 

"  I  thank  you,"  returned  the  stranger,  an  indescrib- 

35 


36  HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR. 

able  smile  curving  his  lip  for  an  instant ;  "and  as  I  do 
not  desire  that  you  continue  in  ignorance  of  my  motives 
in  seeking  to  chastise  you,  nor  to  permit  you  to  suppose 
that  I  would  offer  to  fight  without  knowing  that  my 
opponent  was  a  gentleman,  I  will  inform  you  that  I 
know  you  to  be  Sir  Philip  Belmore  ;  and  further,  that 
the  lady  whom  you  are  so  fortunate  as  to  have  in  your 
party  is  also  well  known  to  me,  and  it  is  because  of  her 
presence  in  your  company  that  I  have  cut  short  my  visit 
in  London,  followed  you  here,  and  taken  the  pains  to 
interfere  with  your  interesting  arrangements." 

This  astonishing  statement  was  received  with  looks 
oi  amazement  by  Sir  Philip  and  his  friends.  But,  before 
a  word  had  been  spoken  by  either  of  them,  the  Marquis, 
who  had  turned  away,  seemed  to  think  that  he  had  not, 
after  all,  been  quite  candid  enough,  for  he  immediately 
added  to  the  general  surprise  by  a  further  revelation. 

"  I  will  inform  you,  also,  Monsieur,"  said  he,  return- 
ing a  pace  or  two,  "  that  I  know  to  whom  you  were 
indebted  for  your  introduction  to  the  lady,  and  why  so 
much  interest  was  taken  in  your  behalf.  Achille  Dude- 
vant,  a  journalist  of  Paris,  who  is  now  in  London  gath- 
ering secret  information  for  a  parvenu  gazette  of  the 
diplomatic  movements  on  foot  with  reference  to  France 
and  Austria,  has  reason  to  dislike  me  because  I  have 
denounced  him  to  the  Minister  as  a  seditious  person. 
For  certain  reasons,  also,  he  has  been  led  to  believe  that 
what  he  has  done  toward  making  you  and  Mademoiselle 
acquaintances  and  fellow-travelers,  would  seriously 
annoy  me.  Well,  I  shall  in  good  time  reward  this 
Dudevant ;  at  present,  I  am  interested  in  dealing  with 
you  ! " 

As  the  stranger  concluded  this  extraordinary  speech, 
he  stepped  back  among  his  friends  with  a  menacing 


HELF.NE   SAINTE    MAUR.  37 

expression  in  his  brown  eyes,  coolly  folded  his  arms  over 
his  ruffled  bosom,  and  awaited  the  effect. 

Sir  Philip  had  neither  stirred  nor  spoken  during  this 
amazing  address;  but,  as  the  Marquis  ceased,  his  brow 
and  cheeks  suddenly  burned  with  an  intensity  that 
seemed  to  scorch  them,  and  then  as  instantly  paled.  An 
ominous  light  flamed  into  his  eyes  and  remained  there, 
as,  advancing  a  step  nearer,  he  demanded: 

"And  pray,  sir,  who  are  you  ?  I  care  nothing  for  the 
tedious  explanation  you  have  taken  the  trouble  to  make; 
but  I  am  somewhat  inquisitive  concerning  the  quality  of 
a  stranger  who  proposes  to  cross  swords  with  me." 

"Monsieur  shall  be  fully  informed, "  returned  the 

Frenchman,  haughtily.  "  I  am  the  Marquis  of  B , 

and  I  am  attached  to  the  Court  of  his  Majesty  Louis 
XVI." 

Sir  Philip  bowed  coldly,  and,  turning  toward  his 
brothers, 

"These  gentlemen  are  my  brothers,  Hubert  and 
Ralph  Meltham,"  said  he;  "  they  will  act  as  my  seconds." 

"And,"  said  the  Marquis,  presenting  two  of  his  com- 
panions, "these  gentlemen  are  my  friends,  Messieurs, 
the  Chevalier  Vergiraud  and  the  Viscount  D'Artois,  who 
will  meet  you  at  once." 

The  four  seconds  immediately  withdrew  to  a  private 
room  in  the  hostelry,  whHe  Sir  Philip,  after  another 
interchange  of  cool  civilities  with  the  pugnacious  noble- 
man, proceeded  to  the  public  parlor  alone,  there  to 
await  the  consummation  of  the  arrangements  for  the 
first  duel  he  had  ever  been  called  to  fight.  It  was  not 
to  be  the  last  time,  however,  that  he  was  to  draw  his 
sword  in  France. 

He  had  not  expected  to  find  any  one  in  the  public 
parlor  of  the  inn;  but  as  he  crossed  the  threshhold  he 
found  himself  face  to  face  with  Helene  Sainte  Maur. 


38  HELEN  K    SAINTK    MA  UK. 

She  stood  in  the  center  of  the  room,  as  if  awaiting 
him;  and  as  he  approached  her  hesitatingly,  her  eyes 
sought  his  with  a  mystical  look  in  them,  and  her  voice 
had  in  it  a  gentleness,  a  sadness  of  tone  that  sounded 
exquisitely,  infinitely  sweet. 

"You  are  about  to  fight  a  duel!  " 

"Why  do  you  think  so?"  demanded  he,  stopping 
abruptly. 

"I  know  it,"  she  returned,  in  the  same  tone,  and  she 
held  out  her  hand  to  him,  which  he  took  in  both  of  his, 
feeling  the  quick  pulse  in  the  delicate  fingers  with  a 
strange  thrill,  as  he  gazed  at  her  with  silent  yearning. 

"You  know  it,"  he  repeated,  in  a  low  tone;  "in  that 
case  there  is  nothing  to  be  said — except,  that  if  I  fall, 
you  will  attend  my  obsequies." 

Helene  moved  her  head  expressively.  "  It  will  not 
be  you  who  will  fall,"  she  said,  gravely. 

Belmore  smiled,  "You  speak  very  confidently," 
said  he;  "and  yet  my  antagonist  can  not  be  a  novice  in 
the  use  of  a  gentleman's  weapons." 

'•'Nevertheless,"  replied  she,  with  strange  emphasis, 
"it  is  he  who  will  fall."  Then,  as  if  to  herself,  "It  is 
most  unfortunate." 

Belmore  started.  He  recalled  the  words  of  the  Mar- 
quis: 

"This  Marquis  is  well  known  to  you,"  he  suddenly 
exclaimed,  gazing  at  her  moodily. 

For  a  moment  she  looked  fixedly  at  him,  while  he 
strove  hopelessly  to  read  her  thoughts  through  her  fath- 
omless eyes.  As  for  his  own,  he  saw  that  to  her  they 
were  as  the  printed  page  of  an  open  book,  and  his  con- 
scious gaze  drooped. 

With  a  sigh  scarcely  audible,  she  said,  slowly  turn- 
.ing  her  own  gaze  toward  the  window  through  which  the 
morning  sun  came  in  bars  of  red  gold: 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  39 

"Yes,  this  Marquis  is  known  tome.  Less  than  a 
year  ago  he  met  me  at  the  Court  at  Versailles.  After- 
wards he  visited  me  at  my  chateau  at  Paris.  I  received 
him-  as  I  received  others.  Four  months  ago  I  left  for 
the  summer  tour  which  I  usually  make.  He  followed 
me  everywhere.  I  met  him  in  the  Alps,  at  Brussels  and 
in  London.  He  was  at  the  Minister's  ball,  and  saw  you 
introduced  to  me  by  the  former  private  secretary  of  my 
deceased  father,  and  I  observed  a  flash  of  anger  in  his 
eyes  at  the  moment.  Before  I  left  London  he  came  to 
me  with  an  audacious  threat  that  he  would  certainly 
prevent  it  if  I  attempted  to  travel  to  Paris  in  your  com- 
pany; that  it  was  an  impropriety,  and  soon.  I  informed 
him  at  once  that  I  knew  quite  enough  of  your  ante- 
cedents to  feel  perfectly  at  ease  with  your  chaperonage, 
and  was  not  disturbed  about  the  conventionalities. 
Then  I  requested  him  to  leave  me,  and  to  consider  our 
acquaintance  finally  ended.  He  professes  to  love  me, 
but  that  does  not  interest  me  in  the  least." 

She  paused,  and  for.  some  time  was  silent.  She 
seemed  to  be  musing.  Her  fair  head,  draped  in  its 
splendid  hair,  drooped  While  she  thought,  until  the  ivory- 
like  chin  rested  upon  her  bosom.  Then  the  golden  head 
was  flung  backward,  her  eyes  flashed  with  a  light  that 
to  Belmore  appeared  supernal  her  voice  vibrated  like 
the  chords  of  a  harp  : 

"  Do  you  know  what  such  men  are  to  me?"  exclaimed 
she,  laying  her  hand  that  quivered  with  suppressed 
feeling  upon  his  arm.  "Men?  Ah,  men  only  in  their 
own  conceit.  They  imagine,  these  poor  pigmies  in 
thought,  that  it  is  nothing — the  empire  over  a  woman's 
heart.  Little  monsters,  they  assume,  with  all  the 
effrontery  -of  ignorance,  to  sit  where  only  the  master 
should  be  found,  not  the  imposter.  Ah,  how  often  have 
I  listened  (because  I  could  not  escape  from  it)  to  their 


40  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

dull  gossip,  to  their  wearisome  platitudes,  to  their 
senseless  declamation!  And  always  on  a  subject  they 
are  hopelessly  incapable  of  comprehending  —  Love. 
Heavens!  with  what  disgust  I  have  watched  them  while 
they  groveled.  All  their  baseness  of  spirit,  all  their 
despicable  and  puny  stratagems,  all  their  half-concealed 
selfishness — these  despicable  traits  and  motives  and 
impulses  have  driven  me  back  into  myself  a  thou- 
sand times,  and  I  emerge  each  time  with  a  stronger, 
more  mournful  conviction  that  for  me,  at  least,  there  is 
no  companionship." 

"Ah,  my  friend,  you  are  merciless!"  murmured 
Belmore.  But,  as  he  watched  the  beautiful  face  made 
transcendently  so  by  the  profound  emotions  induced  by 
her  reflections,  he  began  dimly  to  comprehend  her — 
this  woman  who  at  first  had  filled  him  with  dread  even 
while  his  heart  went  out  to  her. 

"Merciless,  do  you  say?"  she  answered  him,  her 
scarlet  lips  parting  with  a  smile  that  was  bitter.  "Ah, 
if  you  only  had  a  woman's  penetration,  with  a  woman's 
opportunities  to  judge  your  sex — no,  not  your  sex,  but 
its  boasted  representatives — you  would  not  say  that  I 
am  merciless,  but  that  I  am  just.  I  insist  that  the  man 
who  is  not  by  nature  or  education  mean  and  cowardly, 
is  a  rara  avis,  indeed." 

"  But  you  admit,  then,  that  there  are  men  of  noble 
natures  and  intellects,  what  of  them  ?"  asked  he,  earn- 
estly. 

"  Oh,  yes,  there  are  men  who  are  not  moral  assassins, 
I  grant  you  that  poor  solace.  But,  do  you  tell  me  that 
you  know  them  ?  Do  you  know  what  constitutes  such  an 
one?  Well,  he  must  be  a  strong  man,  full  of  human 
passion  self-repressed,  full  of  grand  ideas,  of  grand 
impulses,  and  capable  of  grand  actions.  Oh,  such  a  man 


HELENA   SAINTE   MAUR.  4! 

would  be  masterful,  indeed,  because  of  the  greatness  of 
his  soul,  the  humanity  of  his  heart/' 

"And  if  he  were  found  ?" 

"  I  would  worship  him  !  "  she  answered,  with  a  gest- 
ure, a  look,  an  intensity  that  electrified  him. 

"  But  do  not  think,"  she  continued,  slowly,  "  that  I 
would  yield  to  him  at  first.  No,  he  should  first  con- 
vince my  reason  that  he  was  greater  of  soul,  greater  of 
intellect  than  I.  He  must  be  lord  of  himself  to  be  lord 
to  me.  Then,  only,  would  I  bow  before  him  and  confess 
him  master.  Not  abjectly,  not  humbly,  but  as  a  queen 
receiving  her  consort.  Yes,  there  would  be  a  struggle 
between  him  and  me  for  supremacy — over  myself.  A 
struggle,  perhaps,  fatal  to  him,  or  to  both  of  us." 

"And  if  he  conquered?"  demanded  Belmore,  breath- 
lessly. • 

"If  he  conquered,"  she  answered,  deliberately,  "I 
should  yield;  I  should  be  his  absolutely,  irrevocably." 

Belmore  leaned  his  head  upon  his  hands,  deep  in 
thought,  his  brain  in  a  tumult,  his  heart  throbbing  fit- 
fully. At  last  he  moved  uneasily  and  said,  gravely: 

"  You  have  an  ideal;  think  you  it  will  ever  embody 
itself  in  flesh  and  blood?" 

Helene  sighed  again,  as  she  turned  her  eyes  dreamily 
upon  him. 

"  Only  Time,  that  sole  unerring  logician,  can  answer 
you — and  me." 

Thus  she  answered  him.  Then,  with  a  quick  move- 
ment that  wafted  the  nameless  perfume  from  her  golden 
hair  into  his  face,' she  rose  and  passed  swiftly  from  the 
room,  leaving  him  involved  in  a  chaos  of  maddening 
speculation. 

It  was  thus  his  brothers  found  him  when  they  came 
to  recall  him  to  the  serious  business  in  which  he  was  so 
soon  to  engage.  Rousing  himself  from  his  abstraction 


42  HELENS   SAINTE   MAUR. 

with  an  effort,  he  inquired,  almost  with  indifference,  as 
they  seated  themselves: 

"  What  is  the  time  fixed  for  it  ?  " 

"  Six  o'clock — at  sunrise  to-morrow/'  Hubert  re- 
plied, quietly. 

"  So  long  to  wait  ?"  remarked  Sir  Philip,  complain- 
ingly;  "and  the  place  of  the  meeting?  I  trust  it  is  in  a 
retired  quarter." 

"It  is  at  Boulogne,"  explained  Ralph,  checking  Sir 
Philip's  exclamation  of  annoyance  and  surprise.  "Yes, 
it  must  take  place  there.  Boulogne  is  the  third  post- 
town  on  our  road  to  Paris.  There  is  an  excellent  inn 
there,  Vergiraud  says,  called  the  Red  Lion,  where  we 
can  obtain  ample  accommodations  for  'all  our  people. 
The  Marquis  and  his  party  will  be  obliged  to  travel  by 
the  stage-coach,  which  consumes  seven  days  between 
Calais  and  Paris  ;  therefore  he  will  not  be  able  to  reach 
Boulogne  until  to-night.  At  sunrise  to-morrow, 'then." 

"And  the  weapons?" 

"Swords,  of  course.  Fortunately,  we  have  in  our 
luggage  the  pair  you  bought  from  the  old  fellow  in  Cor- 
dova. They  are  exactly  alike,  of  the  same  length  and 
weight  and  perfectly  tempered.  We  have  shown  them 
to  Vergiraud  and  D'Artois,  and  they  are  delighted  with 
them.  Therefore,  they  will  be  used." 

Sir  Philip  nodded  his  approval  of  these  arrange- 
ments, and,  rising  abruptly,  observed: 

"  We  will  set  out  at  once." 

In  a  few  minutes  all  was  bustle  in  the  yard  of  the 
inn;  postillions  and  postboys  trooped  into  the  space, 
escorting  the  redoubtable  Guppy  and  his  bold  lieuten- 
ants; and  in  half  an  hour  the  cavalcade  was  leaving  the 
scene  of  its  first  adventure  far  behind  it.. 

As  Sir  Philip  leaned    back   comfortably  against  the 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  43 

padded  leather  of  the  berlin,  he  turned  to  Helene  with 
a  smile: 

"I  think  I  am  starting  out  finely/'  observed  he;  "I 
have  been  in  France  just  four  hours;  in  that  time  I 
have  made  extraordinary  progress,  it  seems  to  me.  I 
have  already  involved  our  servants  in  a  broil  with  nearly 
twice  their  number,  and  myself  in  an  affair  that  must 
certainly  terminate  seriously  to  one  of  us,  at  least,  with 
one  of  the  King's  suite/' 

"  And  one  who  has  some  reputation  as  a  duelist," 
remarked  Helene,  gravely.  "But,"  she  added,  with  an 
assuring  smile,  "I  have  told  you  that  he  is  about  to  lose 
it." 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  DUEL-GROUND  AT  BOULOGNE. 

The  air  of  Boulogne,  always  moist  and  sodden,  was 
unusually  thick  and  disagreeably  cold  on  the  morning 
of  the  duel.  The  sun  rose  dull  and  red,  a  huge  ball  sus- 
pended behind  a  curtain  of  gray. 

The  spot  selected  for  the  meeting  was  in  that  quiet 
residence  portion  of  the  old  bourg  known  as  "high 
town,"  and  in  the  vicinity  of  an  old  convent,  on  the 
edge  of  a  grove  of  trees.  The  ground  had  been  well 
chosen;  it  was  firm  and  even,  and  the  perfect  isolation 
of  the  place  ensured  privacy. 

At  a  quarter  before  six  three  carriages  approached 
the  woods  from  the  direction  of  the  populous  "  lower 
town,"  and,  stopping  only  long  enough  to  deliver  seven 
persons  on  the  ground,  were  rapidly  driven  beyond  the 
grove,  where  they  again  halted  and  there  remained. 

Each  of  the  party  was  wrapped  in  a  sombre  roque- 
laure,  and  wore  a  soft  beaver  drawn  down  over  the 
eyes.  As  soon  as  the  carriages  were  out  of  sight  they 
removed  their  hats  and  cloaks,  and  disclosed  the  features 
of  the  principals,  their  seconds,  and  a  tall,  dark  person- 
age who  carried  in  his  hand  one  of  those  small  leathern 
cases  used  by  physicians  and  surgeons.  This  gentleman, 
who  appeared  to  be  perfectly  at  home  in  such  matters, 
deposited  his  case  with  grave  deliberation  against  a  tree, 
and  turned  to  the  others,  who  awaited  his  movements  in 
silence. 

"Select  the  ground,  gentlemen,"  said  he  to  the 
seconds. 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  45 

"An  easy  task,"  remarked  D'Artois,  with  a  light 
laugh,  as  they  proceeded  to  pace  the  strip;  "this  bit  of 
earth  has  drank  a  score  of  times  from  the  veins  of 
Frenchmen,  although  this  is  the  first  opportunity  it  has 
had  to  taste  the  quality  which  an  Englishman's  yield/' 

The  rather  questionable  taste  of  this  jest  received  no 
notice  from  Sir  Philip  or  his  brothers. 

Again  came  the  order  from  the  surgeon: 

"Take  your  weapons>  Messieurs." 

The  Cordovan  swords,  borne  by  Ralph  Meltham  in  a 
curiously  carved  box,  were  once  more  carefully  in- 
spected, the  choice '  of  selection  being  given  to  the 
Marquis'  side. 

The  deep  and  sombre  voice  of  the  surgeon  followed: 

"Take  your  places,  gentlemen. " 

Both  men,  who  had  divested  themselves  of  their  coats, 
waistcoats  and  cravats,  immediately  faced  each  other. 

The  positions  of  the  com'batants  were  some  ten  feet 
from  the  edge  of  the  woods  and  parallel  with  the  line  of 
the  trees,  the  thick  and  lofty  foliage  of  which  effectually 
prevented  the  chance  rays  of  the  sun  from  reaching  the 
spot  selected. 

And  now,  these  two  who,  until  yesterday,  were  abso- 
lute strangers  to  each  other,  but  in  whose  breasts  an 
antagonism  as  bitter  as  if.it  had  been  engendering  there 
for  years  was  rankling,  stood  opposed  in  a  contest  which 
one,  at  least,  determined  should  be  to  the  death.  As 
for  the  determination  of  the  other — it  will  be  revealed 
by  what  he  did. 

The  seconds  had  performed  the  last  duties  required 
of  them — until  the  fall  of  one  or  both  of  their  respective 
chiefs,  and  had  retired  a  few  paces.  The  surgeon,  fold- 
ing his  arms,  and  with  his  back  to  a  tree  at  the  skirt  of 
the  grove,  stood  for  a  moment  silent,  observant,  and 


46  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

imperturbable.      Then  his   lips,  which  in    repose  were 
always  rigidly  set,  parted. 

"Are  you  ready?"  came  the  last  question,  at  once 
significant  and  terrible. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  stern  answer  from  both. 

"Then— begin  !  " 

There  was  no  dramatic  dropping  of  hat  or  hand- 
kerchief for  signal ;  only  those  three  crisp  syllables, 
grimly  spoken. 

Instantly  the  hilts  of  both  weapons  rose  to  the  level 
of  the  eyes  that  looked  into  each  other  so  coldly  and  so 
pitilessly,  and  the  two  blades  met  in  a  "St.  Andrews 
cross  "  above  their  heads.  Then  they  parted — to  come 
together  at  the  flanks.  And  now  they  darted  like  zig- 
zag- lightning,  hither,  thither,  around  the  bodies  and 
heads  of  the  combatants  ;  but,  instead  of  groans,  sounds 
like  the  perpetual  fallingof  steel  chains  followed,  instead 
of  blood — sparks  of  fire. 

For  interminable  minutes  there  was  a  bewildering 
repetition  of  guards,  feints,  parries,  and  rapid  thrusts  ; 
and  then  the  men  stepped  back  to  regain  their  breath. 

So  far  as  it  appeared  to  the  eye,  they  were  singularly, 
well  matched.  Of  the  same  height,  with  the  same  reach 
of  arm;  broad  of  chest  and  narrowing  at  the  hips;  with 
well  -turned  limbs  and  supple  in  wrist  and  ankle,  an 
experienced  swordmaster  would  have  pronounced  them 
admirable  antagonists. 

Thus  far,  too,  they  appeared  equal  in  point  of  skill  ; 
that  is  to  say,  both  had  proved  themselves  accomplished 
swordsmen,  and  neither  had  as  yet  obtained  any  advan- 
tage over  the  other,  or  given  a  wound. 

For  the  space  of  a  minute,  while  the  duelists  rested, 
all  sounds  had  ceased  except  their  quick  and  deep  respir- 
ations. But  now  they  have  again  advanced,  and  again 


HELENE    SAINTE   MAUR.  47 

the  ring  of  the  hungry  steel  echoes  ominously  through 
the  solemn  woods. 

Suddenly  the  impassive  surgeon  leans  forward  and 
fixes  his  eyes  upon  Sir  Philip's  face,  which  he  watches 
as  if  he  were  witnessing  some  startling  phenomena. 
The  seconds,  too,  creep  forward  apace,  as  they  also  look 
on,  with  astonishment,  with  awe. 

What  is  it  they  see  ? 

Sir  Philip's  face  was  undergoing  a  singular  trans- 
formation. His  lips,  merely  closed  before,  now  were 
rigid  ;  so  tightly  were  they  pressed  together  that  the 
blood  was  driven  back  from  them,  leaving  them  as  white 
as  his-  brow .  But  a  dark  red  spot  burned  in  either  cheek 
and  remained  there,  neither  fading  nor  deepening.  It 
was  the  Saxon  blood  in  his  veins,  the  placid  flow  of 
which  had  changed  to  a  current  of  fire.  The  deep- 
set  eyes,  that  until  now  had  shone  only  with  stern 
determination,  began  to  dilate.  Brighter  and  brighter 
they  grew,  as  if  lit  by  a  lurid  torch  from  within.  His 
aspect  and  manner  now  were  those  of  a  gladiator. 
Quicker  and  fiercer  darted  the  blue  steel  in  his  hand. 
Now  it  hovered  over  his  adversary's  heart,  and  it 
seemed  certain  to  find  a  fatal  entrance  there ;  now  it 
came  straight  at  the  bared  white  throat ;  then  it  darted 
away  and  fanned  the  curling  locks,  as  it  circled  like  an 
aureole  around  the  doomed  head. 

Doomed  indeed,  it  seemed. 

The  panting  breath  of  the  Marquis  warned  his  friends 
that  he  was  giving  way.  With  consummate  skill  he  had 
parried  every  stroke,  anticipated  every  thrust — thrusts 
withdrawn,  however,  before  they  touched  his  body,  by 
the  iron  hand  which,  plainly  enough  now,  was  for  some 
mysterious  purpose  deliberately  wearing  him  out.  For 
some  time  now,  the  Marquis  had  ceased  to  offer  a  thrust 
or  return  a  stroke,  but  confined  himself  to  mere  defense. 


48  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

Plainly,  he  could  do  nothing  more  ;  Sir  Philip's  sword 
was  everywhere  at  the  same  instant ;  it  was  gripped  by 
a  hand  as  elastic  as  a  woman's  ;  a  wrist  as  supple  as  the 
neck  of  a  serpent  directed  it ;  but  the  soft  white  skin  of 
that  hand  and  wrist  covered  ligaments  of  steel.  Thrice 
he  could  have  disarmed  his  adversary,  thrice  he  might 
have  given  him  a  home-thrust  that  would  have  stilled 
his  turbulent  heart  forever,  and  still,  with  a  smile  on  his 
white  lips  which  none  who  saw  it  understood,  he  for- 
bore— and  waited. 

For  what  ? 

The  five  spectators  of  this  singular  combat  were  ask- 
ing this  question  of  themselves,  -and  finding  no  answer. 
They  had  scarcely  stirred,  so  deep  was  their  absorption, 
so  breathless  their  interest,  as  they  watched  the  terrific 
play  of  Belmore's  sword.  Only  once  the  surgeon, 
roused  out  of  his  impassability,  muttered: 

" Pouf!     This  wizard  has  put  life  into  his  sword." 

But  the  combat  was  now  soon  to  be  terminated  ;  and 
in  a  manner  secretly  intended  by  Sir  Philip  from  the 
first,  although  totally  unsuspected  by  the  spectators. 

The  manner  of  the  Marquis  during  the  combat  had 
undergone  several  changes.  At  the  first  he  was  as  cool 
and  passionless  as  his  antagonist,  yet  arrogant  and  con- 
temptuous. As  the  latter  began  to  display  his  skill  the 
contemptuous  sneer  disappeared,  and  a  look  of  surprise 
succeeded.  Then  the  patrician  face  became  grave  ;  and 
finally  the  color  began  to  leave  it.  As  he  found  himself 
more  and  more  at  the  mercy  of  his  antagonist  he  grew 
deathly  pale,  his  respiration  became  more  and  more 
painful,  his  breath  coming  at  last  in  fitful  gasps.  His 
emotion  was  that  of  shame,  not  fear;  and  his  dark  eyes 
glittered  with  all  the  bitter  rage  of  desperation,  hate  and 
humiliation.  He  began  to  stagger,  to  reel ;  and  his  lips 


HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR.  49 

irocned  blood.  Plainly,  it  was  time  to  bring  matters  to 
an  end. 

The  end  was  very  near. 

The  sword  of  Sir  Philip  had  become  instinct  with 
motion.  But  now  it  played  always  about  the  face  of 
the  nobleman,  who  soon  exhibited  signs  of  hopeless 
bewilderment,  as  the  terrible  blade  perpetually  flashed 
into  his  eyes.  Step  by  step,  not  advancing,  but  circling 
around  him,  Belmore  pressed  him  closer  and  closer 
until  his  hot  breath  could  be  felt  upon  his  cheek.  Sud- 
denly, using  the  weapon  as  a  poniard,  he  thrust  the 
point  downward  at  the  hilt  of  the  other,  withdrew  it  as 

suddenly,  and  the  Marquis  of  B staggered  back 

without  a  weapon. 

Both  the  Cordovan  swords  were  in  the  hands  of  Sir 
Philip. 

With  a  taunting  smile  on  his  lips,  he  held  forth  the 
one  he  himself  had  used,  and  said: 

"I  have  taught  you  something  with  this;  take  it  and 
try  its  temper  on  your  lackeys." 

The  five  witnesses  of  the  duel,  supposing  it  ended, 
had  started  forward.  But  they  stopped;  every  word  of 
this  cutting  speech  had  been  heard  by  them;  and,  dis- 
mayed, dumbfounded,  they  stood  and  stared  at  the 
Marquis.  The  latter,  roused  to  frenzy  by  the  insult,  the 
object  of  which  will  hereafter  be  understood,  ground  his 
teeth.  Then,  forgetting  or  overcoming  his  exhaustion, 
seized  the  extended  weapon,  and,  springing  back  into 
position,  shouted  hoarsely: 

"On  you  first,  then!"  and  lunged  madly  at  the 
breast  of  his  enemy.  But  the  sword  which  had  been  so 
easily  wrested  from  the  hapless  nobleman  proved  quite 
as  terrible  as  its  twin.  The  vicious  thrust  was  as  easily 
turned  aside,  a  counter-thrust  was  offered  as  a  feint, 
merely,  which  caused  the  Marquis  to  swerve  so  that  he 


50  HELEXK    SAINTE   MAUR. 

presented  a  perfect  profile  to  his  watchful  foe.  Instantly 
the  sword  of  Belmore  was  shortened,  and  the  Marquis, 
deceived  by  the  movement  which  had  before  deprived 
him  of  his  own  weapon,  lowered  his  head.  A  swift  pass 
at  the  exposed  face,  straight  across  it  and  obliquely 
upward,  and,  with  a  despairing  cry,  unlike  that  of  either 

fear  or  pain,  the  Marquis  of  B dropped  his  weapon, 

covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and  fell  to  the  ground. 
When  his  friends  reached  him,  the  blood  was  trickling 
in  dark  streams  through  his  fingers,  and  he  had  fainted. 

Without  removing  his  hands,  they  lifted  him  up,  and 
bore  him  toward  the  convent. 

The  instant  Sir  Philip  had  giyen  the  coup  de  grace 
to  his  adversary,  he  stepped  quickly  past  the  prostrate 
body,  and,  without  being  observed  by  any  one,  picked 
from  the  ground  some  small  object  which  he  hastily 
placed  in  his  handkerchief,  and  deposited  in  a  pocket  of 
his  coat.  Then,  without  a  glance  at  the  fallen  man, 
and  grasping  his  garments  as  he  strode  on,  he  signed 
to  his  brothers,  and  disappeared  in  the  grove,  in  the 
direction  of  his  carriage. 

Half  an  hour  afterwards,  Sir  Philip  and  his  party 
were  moving  rapidly  along  the  road  toward  Paris. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

PARIS  IN   1788. 

The  physical  appearance  of  the  Paris  of  one  hundred 
years  ago  was  as  different  from  the  Paris  of  to-day  as 
our  own  magnificent  Capital  is  different  from  the  Wash- 
ington of  a  quarter  of  a  century  past.  In  each  case,  the 
necessity  for  extensive  urban  improvements  at  the 
eleventh  hour  stirred  the  ambition  and  supplied  the 
courage  of  one  man  whose  genius  was  equal  to  the  task 
of  rehabilitation,  renovation  and  recreation.  To  be  a 
public  benefactor  is  to  invite  martyrdom;  and  in  the 
case  of  .both  Hausmarm  and  Shepard,  martyrdom  was 
the  reward.  Execrations,  persecutions,  contumely, 
assailed  them  from  behind  the  barricades  of  the  press, 
that  coward's  refuge  of  a  licensed  malefactor ;  after 
which  the  public  proceeded  to  enjoy  to  the  utmost 
those  grand  benefactions,  and  with  quite  as  much  com- 
placency as  if  it  had  not  senselessly  and  cruelly  de- 
nounced their  authors  and  sought  to  ruin  them,  and 
with  no  more  remorse  than  the  savage  brutes  of  the 
jungle  would  exhibit. 

The  streets  of  Paris,  as  our  travelers  found  them, 
were  narrow,  crooked,  badly  paved  and  filthy  lanes, 
except  in  a  few  neighborhoods — notably  those  of  the 
Faubourgs  ("clusters  of  houses,"  etc.),  Sts.  Honore  and 
Germain,  which  were  then  the  ultra-fashionable  quar- 
ters. Lanterns,  suspended  from  hooks  attached  to  tall 
poles,  at  the  intersections  of  the  streets,  were  the  only 
illuminators;  and  their  rays  could  be  seen  for  scarcely 
the  distance  of  a  hundred  yards,  twinkling  dismally, 

61 


52  HELENE    SAINTE   MAUR. 

and  "making  the  darkness  visible."  No  female,  from  a 
child  of  twelve  to  a  dame  of  fifty,  unless  deformed,  or 
whose  ugliness  rivaled  that  of  the  Witch  of  Endor, 
dared  venture  alone  on  an  isolated  street  after  sunset; 
and  it  was  decidedly  unsafe  for  any  well-dressed  man  to 
traverse  them  after  dark  without  a  companion  or  two, 
as  well  as  with  trusty  weapons.  Collisions  were  con- 
stantly occurring  in  deserted  ways  between  "gentle- 
men" (the  term  was  not  so  well  understood  at  that 
period  as  at  this),  or  between  some  impudent  bourgeois 
and  lurking  foot-pads,  who  burrowed  during  the  day  in 
the  great  sewers. 

The  houses  or  residences  of  the  nobility  and  gentry 
were  designated  "hotels,"  "chateaux,"  "palaces,"  etc. 
Some  of  these  were  of  such  immense  size,  and  of 
such  elaborate  arrangement,  as  to  justify  titles  so  pre- 
tentious. Such  was  the  residence  of  Helene  Sainte 
Maur,  into  which  we  are  about  to  introduce  the  reader. 
It  was  a  spacious  stone  structure,  built  by  a  -feu'dal 
ancestor,  who  had  need  of  many  apaetments  for  his 
retainers,  and  sumptuous  and  elegant  chambers  for  his 
numerous  guests.  The  last  lineal  descendant  of  this 
forgotten  great-grandsire,  Helene  felt  for  the  antique 
mansion  a  peculiar  reverence,  and  could  never  be*per- 
suaded  to  either  dispose  of  it  or  change  its  strange 
interior.  The  chateau,  as  it  was  properly  called,  was  a 
short  distance  west  of  the  now  spacious  Boulevart  of 
St.  Michel,  south  of  the  Seine  where  the  river  is  crossed 
by  the  Pont  de  Neuf,  and  not  far  from  the  Palais  du 
Luxemburg. 

Immediately  upon  her  arrival  in  Paris,  Helene 
repaired  to  the  chateau,  and  summoned  her  servants  who 
had  been  sent  away  as  usual  during  her  absence,  and  in 
a  few  days  was  fairly  "at  home." 

As  for  Sir  Philip  and  his  friends,  they  had  profited 


HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR.  53 

by  Helena's  advice,  and  had  secured  admirable  and  ele- 
gant quarters  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Cafe  Conti,  then  one 
of  the  best  resorts  for  gentlemen  that  could  be  found  in 
the  metropolis.  They  dined  and  had  their  suppers  at 
the  cafe,  but  their  breakfasts  were  served  at  their  apart- 
ments. 

By  the  first  of  December  Sir  Philip  and  his  brothers 
had  become  familiar  with  the  principal  localities  and 
thoroughfares  of  the  city,  and  were  as  much  at  home  as 
the  natives,  thanks  to  the  guidance  of  the  amiable 
Dumesnil.  The  latter  had  at  first  evinced  a  disposition 
to  mope  a  little  at  the  beginning  of  his  new  and  some- 
what over-peaceful  life — which  was  soon  to  be  exactly 
the  reverse — but  the  occupation  of  guide  to  three  such 
active  and  observant  companions  soon  dispelled  this 
feeling,  and  he  had  now  become  the  most  cheerful  and 
agreeable  of  comrades. 

Sir  Philip,  no  less  than  his  brothers,  was  surprised 
at  the  station  occupied  by  Helene  Sainte  Maur  in  the 
social  world  of  Paris.  She  was,  indeed,  one  of  its 
queens,  as  he  very  soon  discovered.  As  soon  as  it  was 
generally  known  that  she  had  returned,  and  that  her 
chateau  in  the  aristocratic  Faubourg  had  once  more 
opened  its  great  carved  doors,  friends  and  acquaintances 
poured  through  them  like  an  inundation.  She  was 
widely  known  and  cordially  liked,  and  her  acquaintances 
were  innumerable.  Her  friends,  her  "familiars,"  were 
of  a  different  class  from  the  butterflies  of  the  gay  monde. 
They  were  the  brilliant  men  and  women  of  that  remark- 
able period,  when  intellect  seemed  to  have  been  put  in 
harness,  that  it  might  be  driven  at  race-horse  speed, 
which  the  exciting  political  •  discussions,  intrigues, 
reform  clubs,  and  schools  of  philosophy  demanded. 
Mademoiselle's  receptions,  dinners  and  coteries  drew 
these  people  as  a  powerful  magnet  draws;  and,  like  the 


54 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 


magnet,  infused  into  them  its  subtle  aura  the  moment 
they  entered  her  elegant  drawing-rooms. 

Callers  of  both  sexes,  the  beau  monde  of  Paris, 
fairly  monopolized  her  during  the  daytime,  and  en- 
croached upon  her  evenings  ;  and  it  was  seldom  that  Sir 
Philip  had  the  happiness  of  an  hour's  interview  with 
her,  uninterrupted  by  others.  It  almost  invariably 
happened,  when  he  called,  that  some  one  else  was  either 
arriving  or  leaving,  so  that  an  evening  with  her  alone 
was  scarcely  possible. 

During  one  of  these  rare  and  precious  tete-a-tetes^ 
when  he  had  found  her  alone  in  a  delightful  little  room 
near  her  pretty  garden,  she  gave  him  a  glimpse  of  her 
proposed  mode  of  life,  the  duties  she  had  assigned  to 
herself  upon  her  return,  and  her  inclinations  and  pur- 
poses. It  had  greatly  surprised  him  and  had  rendered 
him  uneasy.  She  was  apparently  wholly  absorbed  in 
her  plans,  and  Sir  Philip  thought  that  she  had  under- 
taken a  task  at  once  formidable  and  dangerous.  She 
was  intimate  with  the  chiefs  of  the  Gironde,  whom  she 
charged  with  extravagant  theories,  doctrines,  and  ten- 
dencies. 

"These  people  are  full  of  impracticable  notions  of 
government,"  she  said,  as  slie  faced  him  in  her  favorite 
lounging  chair,  a  fautcuil  of  white  and  grey  velvet, 
while  he  looked  at  her  wonderingly. 

"It  occurs  tome,"  remarked  Belmore,  "that  your 
Girondists  are  preparing  to  play  in  earnest  the  part  of 
Zeus,  who,  after  emptying  Pandora's  box  of  plagues  upon 
the  world,  was  necessarily  dissatisfied  with  the  condi- 
tion it  was  left  in,  and  sought  to  overturn  the  world  and 
create  it  anew." 

14  Ah,  I  see  you  have  been  at  the  keyhole,"  returned 
Hclene,  with  a  pleased  smile.  «  Yes,  these  people  are 
dangerous  from  their  very  innocence.  There  is  Roland; 


HEL£NE    SAINTE    MAUR.  "55 

he  is  purely  Utopian.  He  has  an  insane  idea  that  cap- 
ital and  labor  can  be  made  to  fraternize,  and  that  can 
never  be.  Bring  them  together  in  a  community  of 
interests,  a  '  co-operative  community'  it  is  called,  and 
you  have  only  brought  together  the  materials  fora  con- 
flagration. The  secret  reason  is  that  brains  are  forever 
struggling,  scheming,  longing  to  dominate  brawn  ;  and 
wherever  these  brains  exist  a  head  rises  above  the  sweat- 
ing ranks,  demands  largesse  from  capital,  and,  if  it  is 
refused,  incites  revolt  among  the  proletariat.  And  then, 
again,  these  sentimental  friends  of  mine  are  teaching  a 
new  so-called  religion.  Oh,  they  call  it  philosophy;  but 
it  is  simply  a  bundle  of  vagaries,  calculated  to  confuse 
weak  or  ignorant  minds,  and  lead  them  finally  into 
believing  nothing  at  all.  Only  yesterday,  while  I  was 
passing  the  Sorbonne,  two  lean  and  pale  young  students 
coming  from  different  directions,  stopped  abruptly, 
stared  at  each  other  like  two  idiots,  and  one  exclaimed: 

."'  My  friend,  are  you  very  sure  that  you  have  any 
knowledge  of  anything?  Are  you  certain  that  you 
know  what  is  knowable?'  And  the  other  replied: 

"  '  Mon  Dieu,  my  friend,  what  we  thought  was  knowl- 
edge was  after  all  only  superstition.' 

"  Then,  with  a  shrug  and  another  idiotic  stare  in  the 
direction  of  the  antipodes,  they  went  abruptly  on  their 
way.  You  can  see,  can  you  not,  to  what  all  this  imbecility 
must  lead  ?  " 

"Skepticism,"  said  Sir  Philip,  tersely. 

"  Yes,  that  first,  and  then  infidelity.  After  infidelity 
— anything." 

For  an  interval,  he  sat  watching  her  serious  face, 
noting  her  absorbed  manner,  and  his  brows  betrayed  the 
moodiness  of  his  thoughts. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "do  you  imagine  that  you  can 
combat  all  these  imbecilities?  There  are  at  least  one 


56  HELENE    SAINTE.MAUR. 

hundred  thousand  incurables  in  this  uneasy  capital,  and 
the  disease  is  spreading.  What  can  you  do  to  arrest  it?" 

"Oh,"  returned  she,  smiling  at  his  lugubrious  ex- 
pression, as  well  as  at  his  words  which  implied  her 
weakness,  "  there  are  only  a  score  of  those  thousands, 
and  out  of  that  formidable  multitude  there  are  less  than 
a  score  upon  whom  it  is  necessary  to  operate." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  them,"  reflected  Belmoi  e,  recall- 
ing something  he  had  heard  of  Danton,  who  was  then 
beginning  to  be  talked  of.  As  if  she  read  his  thoughts, 
she  exclaimed: 

"You  wish  to  see  them.  Well,  come  to  my  fete  next 
Wednesday  evening — you  will  receive  cards  for  it  to- 
morrow, and  you  shall  see  some,  perhaps  all,  of  these 
griffins." 

"Ah,  that  will  be  a  rare  pleasure,'  responded  he, 
brightening  at  the  prospect  of  meeting  her  intimate 
friends,  and  judging  them — for  his  own  sake. 

"Then  I  shall  expect  you.  There  are  cards,  too,  for 
your  brothers,  and  for  that  good-natured  giant  whom 
you  carry  about.  Do  you  know  that  he  literally  encir- 
cles me,  when  we  chance  to  meet,  with  those  great  eyes 
of  his?  Do  not  fail  to  bring  him;  I. shall  have  another 
giant  to  converse  with  him — Danton." 

At  the  sound  of  that  name  Belmore  started;  he  had 
heard  of  him  as  an  admirer  of  Mile.  SainteMaur,  but  he 
had  not  heard  of  the  orator's  ugliness. 

He  left  the  chateau  with  thoughts  that  profoundly 
disturbed  him.  He  knew  the  perturbed  state  of  that 
vast  and  dangerous  majority  known  as  the  "  People," 
and  when  Helene  told  him  confidently  that  the  kingly 
prerogative  itself  was  in  jeopardy  from  the  latent  dis- 
content of  these  masses,  he  felt  no  surprise.  And  if  an 
emeute  followed  ?  What  an  arena  this  Paris  would  be 
for  a  woman — such  a  woman  as  Helene  Sainte  Maur. 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  57 

Far  greater  would  be  her  peril,  he  knew,  than  that  of 
any  other,  except  the  Queen.  She  would  be  a  conspic- 
uous mark  for  envy,  for  malevolence,  even  for  the 
assassin. 

The  night  of  the  fete  arrived,  and  with  it  a  deluge  of 
rain.  But  in  despite  of  this  discouraging  visitor,  Sir 
Philip's  party  found  some  difficulty  in  passing  through 
the  crowded  entrance.  The  drawing  rooms,  the  ban- 
quet hall,  the  library,  and  even  the  pavilion,  were  all  in  a 
plethoric  state,  and  still  being  fed  from  the  inexhaustible 
procession  of  vehicles  of  every  description  that  were 
making  their  momentary  pause  at  the  end  of  the  canvas 
awning  outside. 

This  spectacle  was  to  Hubert  and  Ralph  Meltham  a 
revelation,  and  they  entered  the  dazzling  salon  with  a 
sudden  revulsion  of  feelings,  until  this  moment  obsti- 
nately entertained,  of  the  fair  Parisienne.  She  received 
them  with  a  grace  that  was  inimitable;  and  their  prej- 
udices were  swept  away  forever.  Then,  as  they  saw  the 
adulation  that  followed  her  from  every  eye  in  «that 
splendid  assemblage,  they  asked  themselves  if,  after  all, 
Dumesnil  had  not  been  mistaken  about  her  having  been 
the  pupil  of  the  impostor  Mesmer?  Or  if,  indeed,  the 
teacher  of  such  a  woman  could  be  the  charlatan  they 
had  been  led  to  believe  him.  Before  the  evening  had 
grown  old,  they  had  freely  confessed  to  each  other  that 
among  her  sex  this  woman  stood  peerless.  Still,  their 
uneasiness  on  their  brother's  account  was  not  in  the 
least  abated  by  this  change  of  feeling,  of  opinion  toward 
her.  So  brilliant  a  woman,  wondrously  endowed  with 
intellectual  power  which  every  one  seemed  to  acknowl- 
edge, of  such  superlative  beauty  and  grace,  courted  by 
the  noblest  of  her  own  countrymen,  capable  of  wielding, 
and  doubtless  able  to  secure,  a  sceptre,  if  she  chose, 
was  a  prize  more  than  difficult  of  attainment;  and  how- 


58  HELENE   SAINTE  MAUR. 

ever  they  admired  their  brother  for  his  indisputable 
superiority  over  other  men,  they  believed  his  chances  of 
success  in  the  contest  for  the  heart  of  this  goddess  few — 
nay,  desperate.  And  yet  they  had  noted  her  manner 
toward  Sir  Philip  during  the  evening;  they  had  seen  her 
observing  him  with  a  watchfulness  of  expression  which 
seemed  to  imply  a  hope  that  he  would  compare  well 
with  those  around  him  who  were  vieing  for  a  tithe  of 
the  attention  she  bestowed  upon  him.  And  Hubert 
thought  that  he  saw  once  a  fleeting  look  of  proud  pleas- 
ure in  her  eyes  as  she  listened  to  a  little  discussion 
between  Sir  Philip  and  Malesherbes,  in  which  the  former 
made  a  brilliant  impression  even  upon  the  venerable 
jurist. 

The  fete  was  over.  It  had  been  pronounced  by  the 
elegant  habitues  of  the  best  salons  of  Paris  an  "  ova- 
tion," a  "delight,"  and  a  "  climax." 

At  three  o'clock  Sir  Philip's  party  entered  their 
carriage;  and  Hubert,  who  recollected  with  amusement 
with  what  a  demure  air  the  colossus  had  received  the 
enchanting  attentions  of  Mademoiselle,  inquired  slily  : 
"  Come,  Captain,  you  are  positivejy  the  only  guest 
who  has  not  expressed  an  opinion  of  our  delightful 
hostess." 

And  Dumesnil,  making  a  deprecatory  gesture  with 
his  enormous  hand,  growled  under  his  huge  moustache  : 

"Dame!  I  am  of  the  opinion  that  she  'mesmerized' 
me." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

CLARISE    DECHAMP. 

The  most  favored  member  of  Mile.  Sainte  Maur's 
household  was  Clarise  Dechamp,  the  confidential  maid 
whom  we  have  already  introduced. 

Clarise  was  the  only  daughter  of  a  poor  tradesman; 
and  therefore  belonged  to  that  class  of  females  called 
vaguely  "grisettes."  An  ancient  edict  had  declared 
black,  white,  and  the  gayer  colors,  to  be  consecrate  to 
royalty,  the  nobility,  and  the  gentry;  and  the  wives  and 
daughters  of  certain  classes  of  citizens,  including  those 
of  the  shopkeeper,  were  required  to  wear  gray  dresses 
and  robes,  etc.  From  the  color  of  their  gowns,  there- 
fore, these  honest  women  received  the  soubriquet  "gris- 
ette."  The  definition  of  the  term  had  at  length  become 
exceedingly  vague,  and  its  origin  forgotten.  It  was  now 
applied  generally  to  girls  who  earned  their  own  living. 
There  were  many  Ironest  grisettes,  of  course;  but  the 
average  grisette  counted  herself  quite  as  virtuous  as  the 
"grande  dame,"  if  she  contented  herself  with  one  lover 
at  a  time.  Clarise,  let  us  hasten  to  say,  was  not  so  easy 
minded  as  these;  and,  previous  to  her  acquaintance 
with  Paul  Cambray,  she  had  only  indulged  herself  in 
brief  coquetries  with  her  quondam  and  beardless 
acquaintances.  But  whatever  the  affinity  between  herself 
and  him,  they  were  neither  of  them  long  in  discovering 
it.  Their  natures  were,  it  is  true,  decidedly  different. 
Clarise  was  a  girl  of  remarkably  shrewd  and  active 
intelligence,  an  adventurous  and  bold  disposition;  Paul, 
on  the  contrary,  was  somewhat  shallow,  egregiously 

C9 


60  HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR. 

conceited,  by  no  means  quick  of  apprehension,  but  i..-; 
was  affectionate,  had  excellent  taste,  and  was  very  good 
looking.  These  were  exactly  the  "properties"  which 
the  grisette  (of  Clarise's  type)  most  appreciate.  Faith- 
ful, affectionate,  provident,  and  with  true  maternal 
instincts  which  required  some  one  to  look  after  and  to 
care  for,  she  found  in  this  "  boy,"  as  she  was  pleased  to 
think  of  him,  just  what  her  nature  and  character  seemed 
to  require.  A  mutual  attachment  soon  followed,  and 
for  the  first  time  in  her  young  life  Clarise  said  to  her- 
self: 

"  Mon  Dieu,  what  would  the  poor  boy  do  without 
some  one  to  take  care  of  him,  in  this  great  Paris?  It 
was  all  very  well  while  he  was  a  clerk  on  a  channel 
packet,  under  the  arm  of  that  good  Monsieur  Dume- 
snil.  But  now  it  is  different.  He  is  a  bank  clerk  in  the 
City,  and  he  must  be  looked  after,  and  he  must  be 
always  careful  of  his  habits.  Besides,  he  is  a  good  fel- 
low, and  he  loves  me." 

Paul's  lodgings  were,  thanks  to  a  little  clever  man- 
agement, not  very  far  from  the  Sainte  Maur1  residence; 
and  thither  Clarise  went  every  morning,  after  the  com- 
pletion of  her  mistress'  toilet,  to  put  his  rooms  in  order, 
and  bring  away  any  garment  which  needed  a  stitch  or  a 
button.  These  duties  she  had  cheerfully  imposed  upon 
herself,  and  she  fulfilled  them  with  unfailing  regularity. 

Two  or  three  evenings  in  the  week  the  young  people 
spent  together.  Sometimes  they  visited  the  play  ;  but 
usually,  when  the  weather  was  fair,  they  enjoyed  stroll- 
ing back  and  forth  in  a  charming  little  street  which  has 
long  since  been  absorbed  by  the  Jardin  des  Plantes,  or 
lingering  in  the  moonlight  on  the  Pont  des  Tournelles,  a 
quiet  bridge  which  led  over  to  beautiful  lie  St.  Louis. 

During  one  of  these  walks,  on  an  unusually  mild 
evening  in  which  the  breath  of  summer  seemed  infused, 


HELENE    SAINTE   MAUR.  6l 

notwithstanding  the  season,  Paul  had  been  for  some 
time  moodily  silent,  and  Clarise  had  been  silently 
observing  him.  At  length,  he  said  to  her,  with  a  little 
brusquerie: 

"  Clarise,  it  is  highly  probable  that  I  shall  have  an 
affair  of  honor  on  my  hands,  shortly." 

Clarise  looked  up  quickly  and  peered  into  his  face. 
She  had  refrained  from  asking  him  the  cause  of  his  tac- 
iturnity; but,  with  her  usual  tact,  she  had  tried  to  dis- 
pel it  by  her  cheerful  manner  and  conversation,  until 
she  saw  that  talking  annoyed  him  ;  then  she  became  as 
silent  as  he.  She  very  well  knew  he  would  end  by  tell- 
ing her  the  cause  of  his  moodiness  ;  but  she  certainly 
did  not  expect  anything  like  the  communication  he  had 
just  made.  It  startled  her  a  little  ;  but  she  replied  very 
quietly: 

"  An  affair  of  honor  ;  a  duel.     That  is  serious." 

But  Paul  had  expected  an  outburst  <sf  grief,  of 
alarm. 

"  Mon  Dieu!  "  cried  he,  indignantly  ;  "do  you  care  no 
more  about  it  than  that?  'Serious,'  indeed!  Well,  I 
should  say  it  was." 

Clarise  raised  her  star-like  eyes  to  his,  and  with  her 
little  pink  finger-tips  pressed  his  arm  reassuringly.  In 
a  soothing  voice  she  said: 

"Tell  me  all  about  it." 

Certainly,  this  was  exactly  what  Paul  had  been 
desiring  to  do  for  the  space  of  an  hour.  He  therefore 
began,  in  a  most  dramatic  manner,  to  relieve  his  mind 
of  his  trouble,  and — as  a  man  always  will — to  burden 
hers  with  it. 

A  young  flaneur  (that  is,  one  of  those  idlers  who  are 
eternally  found  lounging  on  the  boulevards  in  the  search 
of  frivolous  adventures)  had  been  introduced  to  Clarise 
at  the  theatre  Comedie  Francaise  some  weeks  previously 


62  HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR. 

by  Paul,  whom  he  had  known  for  some  time.  It  was  a 
masquerade  affair,  and  he  had  seen  little  more  than  her 
sparkling  eyes.  He  had  made  several  futile  attempts  to 
induce  her  to  meet  him  afterwards;  and,  being  an  insuf- 
ferably conceited  fellow,  her  refusal  to  reply  to  his  notes 
had  piqued  him  greatly. 

While  Paul  was  on  his  way  to  the  chateau  that  eve- 
ning, to  take  Clarise  our  for  their  usual  promenade,nhis 
person  had  met  him  in  the  Boulevart  St.  Germain.  His 
face  was  flushed  from  wine,  his  temper. decidedly  irrita- 
ble. Stopping  in  front  of  Paul,  he  said: 

"Good  evening,  my  friend,  you  seem  to  be  in  a  pro- 
digious hurry?" 

And  as  Paul  politely  bowed  to  him  and  attempted  to 
pass  on,  the  fellow  called  out  to  him,  in  a  bantering 
tone: 

"  Bah,  I  know  where  you  are  going;  but  I  have  my 
eye  in  the  same  direction  !  " 

"  At  that,"  said  Paul,  "  I  turned  back  to  him.  '  I  do 
not  understand  you,  Monsieur, '.said  I. 

"  '  Oho,  that  is  it,'  returned  he,  with  a  sneer;  '  we  are 
very  innocent,  are  we  not?  Well,  then,  that  pretty  girl 
you  call  Clarise  does  not  care  a  fig  for  you,  my  friend. 
When  you  presented  me  to  her,  she  gave  me  a  look  out 
of  her  black  eyes  which  delighted  me,  but  made  me  feel 
at  the  same  time  sorry  for  you.  Her  black  eyes.  Yes, 
they  are  very  black,  indeed,  and  very  expressive.' 

"With  that  he  made  a  grimace,  and  looked  at  me 
hard.  I  began  to  understand  him.  '  What  do  your 
words  imply,  D'Artivan  ?'  I  demanded.  '  What  was  it 
you  saw  in  her  eyes?' 

"D'Artivan  laughed  insolently,  and  replied:  'Oh, 
they  said  very  plainly,  this  Monsieur  Paul  Cambray  is 
a  truckling  ass;  he  is  excessively  tiresorne.  Come  and 
see  me  !  And  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her  a 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  63 

number  of  times  since  then,  I  might  as  well  inform  you, 
and  she  decidedly  prefers  me  to  you.'" 

"  Ah  the  wretch,"  cried  Clarise,  now  decidedly 
aroused.  "  He  has  seen  me  two  or  three  times,  behind 
a  closed  window  of  the  chateau,  when  he  was  lounging 
in  the  street  opposite,  that  is  all;  and  I  am  quite  certain 
he  would  not  even  know  me  if  he  should  meet  me  again. 
But  what  reply  did  you  make  to  him  ?" 

"The  fellow  had  been  drinking,  and  it  had  made  him 
foolish,  as  it  always  does.  So  I  said  to  him: 

" '  Look  here,  D'Artivan,  you  have  insulted  me,  but 
since  you  are  drunk  I  will  take  no  notice  of  that.  But 
you  have  also  insulted  the  lady  whom  you  have  taken 
the  liberty  to  name,  and  since  she  is  my  honored  friend 
you  shall  answer  to  me  for  it.'  Then,  in  a  twinkle,  he 
became  serious,  and,  tapping,  his  rapier  hilt  bravely,  he 
told  me  where  to  find  him,  if  I  wanted  him.  And  then," 
concluded  Paul,  furiously,  "he  said  with  a  scornful 
laugh,  '  However,  you  will  be  certain  to  forget  the 
place,'  and  with  that — another  insult,  do  you  see  ? — he 
swaggered  off." 

"  Well,  what  address  did  he  give  you,  and  what 
time  did  he  say  he  would  be  there  ?"  demanded  Clarise, 
sharply. 

"  Oh,  the  address  he  gave  me  is  a  place  where  he 
goes  every  day  to  dine.  But  pardon  me,  my  dear  girl," 
concluded  Paul,  drawing  himself  up  stiffly,  and  assum- 
ing a  tone  which  secretly  amused  Clarise  ;  "  I  am  not  at 
liberty  to  disclose  anything  further.  Besides,  such  affairs 
are  not  for  women  to  meddle  with." 

"  Oh,  very  well,"  assented  Clarise,  smiling  to  herself, 
and,  as  they  were  now  leaning  over  the  parapet  of  the 
bridge,  she  looked  down  into  the  moonlit  waters  and 
softly  hummed  a  little  madrigal. 

The  pearl-gray  dress  of  the  young  girl  shimmered  in 


64  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

the  moon-rays  like  a  robe  of  silver;  and  her  rounded 
and  graceful  figure  was  strikingly  nymph-like,  her 
piquant  face  exceedingly  pretty,  as  she  leaned  over  the 
railing,  with  two  little  white  fists  propping  her  chin. 

But,  with  a  lover's  inconsistency,  and  a  man's  vanity, 
Paul  indignantly  resented  this  apparent  indifference. 

"  Mon  Dieu  !  "  exclaimed  he,  after  impatiently  ob- 
serving her  awhile,  "have  you  nothing  to  say,  then  ?" 

Clarise  turned  away  from  the  parapet,  placed  her 
hands  in  each  other  as  one  does  who  is  about  to  con- 
sider something  serious,  and  asked: 

"What  do  you  intend  to  do  ?" 

"I  shall  call  him  out!"  replied  he,  fiercely,  as  he 
twisted  his  moustache. 

"  That  is  to  say  that  you  intend  to  fight  a  duel  ? " 

"  Of  course." 

"And  he  will  have  the  right  to  declare  whether  it 
shall  be  with  swords  or — or  something  else  ?  " 

"Certainly,  but  of  course  it  will  be  with  swords;  it 
will  not  be  with  muskets,  poor  child,"  and  Paul  laughed 
at  the  drollness  of  the  idea. 

"No,"  returned  Clarise,  undisturbed,  "but  pistols 
are  often  used,  now.  Well,  he  is  very  near-sighted,  and 
I  think  he  would  select  swords.  Does  he  fence  well — 
has  he  fought  before?" 

"  How  should  I  know?  "  answered  Paul,  impatiently. 

"And  you — do  you  fence  well?"  persisted  Clarise, 
growing  every  instant  more  matter-of-fact. 

Paul  moved  a  pace  or  two  away,  as  if  to  consider 
this  very  practical  and  by  no  means  unimportant  ques- 
tion, before  replying  to  it.  Then  he  said,  with  some 
hesitation: 

"  Oh,  I  fence  tolerably  well,  I  suppose.  I  took  les- 
sons from  Captain  Dumesnil,  who  is  a  great  swordsman; 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  65 

and  lately  I  have  had  some  practice  with  a  student  who 
lives  next  door  to  my  lodging-place." 

Clarise  shook  her  head. 

"And  when  you  meet  this  D'Artivan,  what  will  you 
do?" 

"  Mon  Dieu!"  cried  Paul,  retreating  upon  his  imag- 
ination at  once,  "  I  shall  wound  him  in  the  face — 
twice." 

"And  why  in  the  face  ? "  asked  Clarise,  watching 
him  narrowly. 

"  Oh,  because  he  thinks  himself  so  handsome,  and — 
and  I  want  to — to  spoil  his  good  looks,  don't  you  see," 
concluded  Paul,  who,  in  fact,  was  still  plagued  with  a 
little  jealousy,  when  he  thought  of  the  Lothario's  boast. 

"  But  suppose  he  does  not  give  you  the  opportunity 
to  wound  him  in  the  face  ?"  persisted  Clarise. 

"Oh,  I  shall  certainly  find  an  opening,"  replied  Paul, 
unconscious  of  the  fact  that  every  word  he  uttered  was 
adding  but  further  proof  of  his  disqualification  for  the 
role  of  hero. 

After  a  little  demure  meditation,  Clarise  removed  her 
hands  from  the  position  deliberative,  and  placed  them 
in  the  position  belligerent;  that  is,  upon  her  hips,  with 
her  elbows,  which  were  very  white  and  softly  dimpled, 
aggressively  prominent.  Then  she  attacked  Monsieur 
with  a~  question  that  was  decidedly  to  the  point. 

"  How  many  lessons  did  Captain  Dumesnil  give  you? " 

Paul  looked  embarrassed. 

"Well,  five,  then." 

Clarise  regarded  her  inconsiderate  lover  with  a  look 
of  motherly  pity.  Then  she  placed  one  little  palm 
against  her  cheek  and  reflected  for  the  space  of  a  minute. 
Her  temptingly  rosy  under-lip  assumed  a  pouting  ex- 
pression, and  she  patted  her  little  foot  absently  against 
the  flagstones. 


66  HELENE    SAINTE   MAUR. 

Evidently,  she  had  found  it  necessary  to  take  Paul  in 
charge.  He  had  not  thought  of  anything  except  his 
resentment.  But  Paul,  we  have  already  said,  was  not 
as  intelligent  as  his  sweetheart.  Besides,  in  such  cases, 
it  is  the  woman  who  thinks  of  everything. 

"  Paul,"  said  Clarise  at  last,  "  I  will  come  to  your 
rooms  to-morrow  evening  at  precisely  eight,  and  fence 
with  you.  We  shall  then  see." 

"  What  do  you  say  ?  "  shouted  Paul,  in  astonishment. 
Then,  approaching  her  slowly, 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  can  fence  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Clarise,  crisply.  "  I  learned 
it  from  a  great  master,  while  my  mistress  and  I  were  in 
Palermo." 

Paul  was  dumbfounded.  As  he  offered  his  arm  to 
the  young  girl,  for  it  was  time  for  them  to  go  home,  he 
muttered  to  himself: 

"  Only  to  think  of  it — a  girl  who  can  fence  !  " 

But  Paul  was  not  yet  done  with  surprises. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

PAUL'S    JOKE. 

At  half-past  seven  on  the  following  evening,  Mon- 
sieur Paul  Cambray  entered  his  apartments  with  a 
debonaire  step  and  a  smile  on  his  lips  which  gently 
elevated  his  silky  moustache.  But  he  also  brought  with 
him  something  else  besides  the  smile — a  box  of  bonbons 
and  a  pair  of  toy  swords,  made  of  tin,  which  he  placed 
on  his  table.  The  smile  was  a  compliment  to  his  own 
fine  sense  of  humor;  and  the  tin  swords — well,  they 
were  to  assist  him  in  perpetrating  a  little  joke  upon  his 
sweetheart.  Afterwards,  he  would  offer  her  the  bonbons 
as  a  sort  of  propitiation.  + 

The  fact  is  that  Monsieur  Paul  had  been  thinking  a 
good  deal  over  Clarise's  proposition  to  teach  him  how 
to  fence,  and  he  had  convinced  himself  that  his  rebuke 
of  the  night  before  had  provoked  her  to  humble  him  a 
little  in  return.  When  she  came  to  see  him  this  evening, 
he  said  to  himself,  she  would  have  forgotten  all  about  the 
matter,  and  he  would  tease  her  by  offering  her  the  tin 
swords.  Ah!  He  could  already  see  the  look  of  chagrin 
in  her  demure  little  face;  and  "he  laughed  heartily  in 
anticipation. 

When  Clarise  entered  the  neat  sitting-room,  she 
carried  in  her  hand  a  long  pasteboard  box,  such  as  were 
used  for  those  immense  sunshades  in  vogue  with  the 
Parisian  ladies.  This  she  placed  on  the  table,  without 
observing  the  articles  intended  for  her.  Then  she  seated 
herself  comfortably  in  a  chair,  folded  her  hands,  and 
looked  smilingly  at  Paul.  But  her  smile  was  only  a 

-  07 


68  HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR. 

salutation;  it  soon  gave  place  to  a  look  of  unusual 
gravity.  She  appeared  preoccupied. 

"Well,"  observed  Paul,  who  had  been  watching  her 
with  a  facetious  expression,  "it  seems  we  have  been 
shopping  to-day  ?" 

Clarise  nodded.  Then  she  sighed  restfully,  and 
remarked: 

"  It  was  such  a  task." 

"No  doubt,"  returned  he,  glancing  amusedly  at  the 
parasol  box. 

"Yes,"  continued  Clarise,  gravely.  "I  had  a  great 
deal  of  trouble  about  it.  Those  shopkeepers  are  so 
excitable  now,  and  they  ask  so  many  questions.  And 
oh,  the  eternal  cant  one  has  to  endure  from  them.  It  is 
'citizen' here,  and 'citizeness'  there.  How  I  detest  it 
all."  And  Clarise  indulged  in  a  little  frown,  that  brought 
her  finely-arched  eyebrows  close  together. 

"I  agree  with  you,"  responded  Paul,  warmly.  "Yes, 
dirt  and  ignorance,  brutality  and  insolence,  are  making 
this  Paris  insufferable.  Ah,  this  leper-smitten  Paris  !  " 

Paul  had  suddenly  become  gloomy.  He  rose  from 
his  chair,  and  stared  uneasily  out  of  the  window. 

"  Everybody  has  changed,"  continued  he;  "even  our 
friends.  There  goes  Dudevant  now,  who  took  so  much 
pains  to  accommodate  us,  you  recollect  ;  a  nibbling 
critic  whom  I  once  rather  liked.  Do  you  know  that  he 
came  back  here,  after  playing  the  spy  in  England  for 
six  months,  to  join  Couthon  ?  Yes,  that  cripple  Couthon 
has  made  him  his  secretary,  and  his  real  business  is  to 
write  screeds  against  Danton,  who  is  hated  and  envied 
by  the  Jacobin." 

"Couthon  is  a  devil,"  murmured  Clarise. 

"Of  course,"  assented  Paul.  "According  to  Greek 
mythology,  every  devil  that  fell  from  Heaven  became 
instantly  lame." 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  69 

"  Oh,  that  reminds  me,"  exclaimed  Clarise,  who  cared 
very  little  about  the'classics;  "  who  do  you  think  visited 
my  mistress  to-day?  " 

"Oh,  Dulagre,  of  course,"  suggested  Paul,  indiffer- 
ently. 

"  Ugh  !  That  fellow  with  eyes  like  a  rat's  ?  Not  he. 
Although  it  is  true  that  he  follows  her  like  a  shadow. 
He  does  not  get  into  the  chateau  often  I  assure  you.  I 
believe  he  is  a  spy  of  the  Marquis." 

-"Very  likely." 

"Well — try  again." 

"  The  King,  perhaps,"  said  Paul,  laughingly. 

Clarise  tossed  her  curly  head  indignantly. 

"  My  mistress  would  not  receive  a  visit  from  the 
King,  sir,"  she  retorted,  sharply.  Then,  impressively: 

'•  It  was  somebody  who  has  more  power  than  the 
King." 

What  do  you  tell  me?"  cried  Paul,  staring  hard. 
"  Who  can  you  mean  ? " 

Clarise  leaned  forward,  placed  both  hands  on  her 
knees,  and  replied  : 

"  Mirabeau." 

Paul  was  astonished. 

"  Oh,  what  a  woman  !  "  exclaimed  he,  pacing  the 
room  excitedly.  "  Wherever  she  appears  she  conquers. 
And  still  it  is  not  strange,"  he  continued,  stopping  in 
front  of  Clarise  ;  "  she  is  greater  than  any  of  them.  Oh, 
she  will  never  be  a  wife." 

"  Indeed,"  exclaimed  Clarise,  bridling  at  once  ;  "  and 
pray  tell  me  why  ?" 

"Because  she  will  never  wed  any  man  who  is  not 
her  equal,  and  she  is  not  likely  to  find  such  an  one. 
But,  after  all,  it  is  strange  that  she  has  no  ambition." 

"On  the  contrary,"  returned  Clarise,  with  much 
emphasis,  "  my  mjstress  is  all  ambition.  But  she  desires 


7O  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

love  first.  .  It  is  true,  as  you  say,  that  she  could  only 
love  one  as  great  as  herself,  or  greater.  Well,  her 
ambition  is  to  find  such  an  one,  and  to  make  him  still 
greater." 

Then  there  was  a  pause.  Suddenly,  Paul's  thoughts 
reverted  to  the  promised  lesson. 

He  began  to  approach  his  purpose  in  a  circle. 

"Can  Mademoiselle,  with  all  her  gifts,  handle  a 
sword  ?"  asked  he,  with  a  smirk. 

"  Handle  a  sword  ?"  repeated  the  girl,  with  animation. 
"Decidedly.  She  was  the  most  finished  pupil  the  old 
maestro  at  Palermo  had." 

"  Indeed?"  returned  Paul,  greatly  amused  ;  "  then  it 
was  Mademoiselle  herself  who  took  lessons."  A.nd 
Paul's  smile  melted  into  a  laugh,  as  he  approached  the 
table. 

"Apropos,  my  dear,"  said  he,  putting  one  of  the  tin 
swords  in  her  hand,  "  it  is  time  is  it  not,  for  us  to  begin 
our  exercise?" 

Clarise  took  the  toy,  examined  it,  reflected  for  a 
moment,  and  said,  quietly  : 

"  I  see." 

"Well,  come,"  laughed  Paul,  "shall  we  begin  ?" 

"Directly,"  answered  she,  without  taking  any  notice 
of  his  mirth.  "  But  let  us  first  come  to  an  agreement." 

"Oh, "cried  Paul,  with  increasing  mirth;  "you  need 
not  be  afraid  of  them,  I  assure  you  they  are  perfectly 
harmless,  and  I  will  not  hurt  you." 

"I  believe  you,"  replied  Clarise,  drily.  "  But,  listen  : 
Whoever  loses  in  the  contest  shall  wear  one  of  these  tin 
swords  with  its  red-painted  hilt,  all  day  for  three  full 
days.  It  shall  hang  at  his  side  by  its  little  strap,  in  full 
view,  and  there  shall  be  no  staying  indoors  during  the 
three  days.  Is  it  agreed  ?" 

Paul  clapped  his  hands,  and  laughed  immoderately. 


HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR.  71 

"Oh,  my  poor  little  Clarise  !"  cried  he;  "only  fancy 
yourself  marching  in  and  out  of  my  lady's  chamber  like 
one  of  those  pigmy  bodyguards  of  ancient  Egypt  J" 

"Be  still,  will  you,"  ordered  Clarise,  impatiently. 
"Are  you  afraid,  then  ?" 

"  Afraid  ?  Come,  that  is  too  good.  Let  us  begin,  my 
child." 

"  Well,  do  you  agree  ? " 

"  Of  course  I  agree.  So  much  the  worse  for  you,  my 
poor  child." 

"Very  well,  then,  it  is  time  to  commence." 

With  this,  Clarise  advanced,  in  her  turn,  to  the  table, 
and,  opening  the  pasteboard  box,  produced  before  the 
astonished  eyes  of  Monsieur  Paul  two  excellent  steel 
foils,  with  buttons  at  the  points. 

"Take  one,"  she  said,  laconically;  "  they  are  precisely 
the  same,  I  think." 

Paul  was  no  longer  smiling;  on  the  contrary,  he 
looked  very  sheepish.  However,  he  took  his  position, 
very  stiffly  indeed,  foil  in  hand. 

"  Do  not  stand  that  way,"  corrected  Clarise,  paying 
no  attention  to  his  embarrassment.  Then,  taking  him 
by  the  shoulders,  she  gave  him  a  little  twist,  and  then 
directed  him  how  to  point  his  feet.  His  ankles  as  well 
as  his  wrists  seemed  positively  to  have  no  joints. 

"  Gracious  ! "  cried  Clarise,  as  she  next  removed  the 
foil  from  his  hand;  "  do  not  hold  it  as  you  would  a  meat 
ax.  There — so,"  and  she  closed  his  fingers  over  the  hilt 
lightly,  pressing  his  thumb  down  against  the  guard. 

Having  thus  got  him  in  order,  and  given  him  a  very 
red  face,  Clarise  took  her  own  weapon  in  her  small  but 
strong  little  hand,  and  faced  him,  the  length  of  the  foil 
distant. 

"  You  are   too  close  ! "  complained    Paul,  who  was 


72  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

becoming  nervous.     Evidently,  he  had  forgotten  some 
of  the  Captain's  instructions. 

But  Clarise  gave  no  heed  to  his  objections. 

"  Now,  on  guard  !  "  she  commanded,  sharply,  raising 
her  own  weapon. 

The  next  instant  they  were  at  it.  And  it  must  be 
confessed  that  they  presented  a  fine  contrast.  Clarise, 
all  suppleness,  coolness,  alertness;  Paul,  all  clumsiness, 
heat  and  nervousness.  The  bout  did  not  last  long.  In 
exactly  four  motions  Clarise  had  touched  him  over  the 
heart;  in  four  more  she  had  sent  his  foil  spinning  across 
the  room. 

Paul  looked  at  it  ruefully,  then  at  her,  inclined  to  be 
angry.  But  Clarise  stood  surveying  him  with  perfect 
gravity;  there  was  no  sign  of  triumph  in  her  glance. 

"  Let  us  try  it  over,"  said  Paul,  testily,  as  he  picked 
up  his  foil. 

But  Clarise  shook  her  head. 

"  But  you  know  it  was  an  accident,"  he  insisted. 

This  was  excellent:  and  Clarise  found  it  quite  diffi- 
cult to  repress  a  smile. 

"  My  dear,"  she   said,  "it  is  these  little   'accidents 
which  always  happen  to  the  one   who  loses  the  fight. 
No,  you  will  not  do.     I  will  give  you  a  lesson  for  an 
hour  every  night  for  one  week;  then  we  shall  see." 

Clarise  replaced  the  foils  in  the  box,  and  was  about 
to  reseat  herself,  when  she  discovered  the  bonbons, 
one  of  those  sweet  necessities  of  a  grisette's  life.  It 
was  she  who  was  smiling  now,  but  not  over  her  lover's 
discomfiture.  And  while  the  sugar  plums  were  melting 
succulently  behind  her  very  firm  and  very  white  little 
teeth,  she  reminded  him  of  the  penalty  he  had  brought 
upon  himself,  •  and  consented  to  release  him  from  it, 
provided  he  would  inform  her  of  the  whole  matter 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  73 

concerning  D'Artivan,  "  just  to  gratify  her  curiosity,"  she 
explained.  Paul  accepted  her  terms  at  once. 

Clarise  left  him  then,  a.id  in  a  rather  crestfallen 
state.  He  was  decidedly  dubious  now  about  the  size 
of  the  scars  he  had  intended  to  leave  on  the  smooth 
cheeks  of  his  boastful  rival. 

As  for  Clarise,  she  had  formed  a  resolution  of  her 
own,  which,  however,  she  kept  to  herself.  What  that 
resolution  was,  and  how  she  kept  it,  will  in  due  time 
appear.  Suffice  it  for  the  present,  that  she  was  prepar- 
ing another  and  the  greatest  surprise  of  all,  for  Mon- 
sieur Paul,  and  for  some  other  people  also. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  CAFE1    OF   THE   THREE    VIRGINS. 

The  Cafe  of  the  Three  Virgins,  some  twenty  paces 
from  the  more  aristocratic  Cafe  Conti,  was,  during  the 
period  of  which  we  write,  principally  the  resort  of 
students  and  journalists.  All  the  small  gossip  of  the 
day  was  circulated  there  with  that  freedom  and  vivacity 
which  characterized  the  two  classes  referred  to,  and 
gave  them  prestige  over  every  other  as  news-gatherers 
and  newsmakers. 

This  Cafe  had  been  recommended  to  Achille  Dude- 
vant,  on  the  day  of  his  arrival  in  Paris,  by  a  young 
scribbler  of  his  acquaintance  named  Gascoigne.  The 
two,  bent  upon  the  same  errand,  met  on  the  Pont  Neuf 
near  the  Palais  de  Justice,  and  in  a  moment  were  in 
each  other's  arms. 

"Ah,  mechant!"  exclaimed  Gascoigne,  shaking  an 
enormous  head  of  hair,  which  was  as  sanguinary  of  hue 
as  the  doctrines  he  was  paid  to  support;  "you  have  then 
returned  to  help  us  set  the  fashion,  eh  ? " 

"  To  what  fashion  do  you  refer,  my  friend  ? "  inquired 
Dudevant,  who  was  always  willing  to  listen. 

"The  deuce.  But  then  you  have  been  out  of  Paris. 
Well,  old  France  is  learning  from  young  America.  In 
fact,  the  revolution  over  the  water  has  turned  the  heads 
of  half  the  people;  and  the  doctrines  of  the  American 
Paine,  who  claims  that  he  was  the  chief  instrument  in 
bringing  it  about,  are  exciting  our  philosophers'  upon  the 
subject  of  religion;  but  you  are  better  informed  than 
you  pretend  to  be.  I  know  that  you  are  a  friend  of  that 

74 


HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR.  75 

little  green-livered  lawyer,  Robespierre,  whose  eternal 
smile  gives  me  the  chills.  Well,  this  poor  devil  of  a 
lawyer,  who  carries  a  green  bag  filled  with  political  docu- 
ments instead  of  briefs,  has,  doubtless,  kept  you  well 
filled.  But  come  and  dine  with  me  to-morrow.  Here 
is  the  card.  At  four  o'clock,  mind  you.  And,  by  the 
way,  you  will  meet  Long  Nose  there.  He  dines  with  me 
every  day.  A  clever  fellow,  but  insane  on  one  point — 
he  would  do  anything  for  notoriety,  no  matter  about 
the  quality.  You  will  come  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  with  right  good  will.  I  know  the  place 
very  well.  Au  revoir." 

Then  the  two,  rejuvenated,  parted  with  a  vigorous 
handshake. 

On  the  following  day  Dudevant  found  the  menu  and 
the  company  at  the  cafe  so  acceptable,  that  he  very 
readily  agreed  to  meet  the  two  inseparables  every  Sat- 
urday at  four,  that  they  might  dine  together  and  com- 
pare notes. 

Now,  the  landlord  was  a  man  of  ideas  ;  and  on  the 
day  after  the  three  journalists  had  taken  their  first  din- 
ner together,  he  said  to  his  wife: 

"  Listen  to  me.  You  know  that  Monsieur  Gascoigne 
— him  of  the  red  hair?" 

"  Ach,"  answered  the  lady,  who  was  German;  "  noisy 
f<-lli)\v.  And  his  friend,  Long  Nose — I  know  not  any 
other  name  for  him,  and  he  likes  that  one — with  his  long 
moustaches  that  he  gets  in  the  soup  and  then  wipes  on 
the  table-cloth  ?  And  the  new  one,  that  Dudevant,  with 
his  black  eyes  that  eats  me,  when  he  looks  at  me  with 
them — " 

"  Parbleau,  cease!"  shouted  her  impatient  spouse; 
''you  have  tongue  plenty  for  one  thousand  sandwiches." 

•'Iluh.  I  believe  I  may  speak  myself  already," 
retorted  she,  indignantly. 


76  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

"Well,  well,  pardi,  listen.  They  are  to  come  to-mor- 
row, that  is  Saturday,  and  at  the  same  hour." 

"  Four  o'clock,  yes,  and  they  staid  until  six,  but  they 
did  not  eat  much,"  said  Madame,  in  a  calculating  tone. 

"  But  they  had  four  bottles  of  Coste  Rotie,  at  two 
livres  ten  sous  the  bottle." 

"So." 

"Good,  that  is  better  than  meat.  Well,  listen.  Do 
you  know  what  that  fellow,  who  is  so  proud  of  being 
called  Long  Nose,  said  to  me,  after  the  fourth  bottle 
was  dusted?" 

"  Ach,  I  stopped  mine  ears  up,  they  speak  all  at  the 
same  time." 

"Pouf!  Well,  this  Long  Nose  said: 

"  '  Lachat,  come  here,  you  lascivious  monster,  I  want 
you.'  And  when  I  protest  to  him,  he  shouts  : 

"  'What,  were  you  deceiving  us,  then?  Come,  where 
are  those  three  virgins?  Aha,  let  us  see  those  three 
virgins! ' 

"And  then  I,  Pierre  Lachat,  who  use  my  brains 
and  make  my  tongue  their  servant,  Madame  Lachat,  do 
you  see,  I  said  : 

"'  Messieurs,  you  shall  see  those  three  virgins  every 
night  but  this  one.  To-night  they  are  at  church.' 

"  'Ah,  ah,'  said  Long  Nose,  with  a  great  laugh;  'then 
they  are  devout  as  well  as  innocent.  Well,  Lachat,  we 
will  come  here  next  Saturday  at  the  same  hour;  and 
mind  that  vou  do  not  let  them  go  to  church  before  Sun- 
day.' 

" '  It  shall  be  so,  Messieurs,'  I  said;  and  they  believed 
me.  Very  well,  listen: 

"'  I  shall  get  me  three  very  ugly  women,  yes,  I  war- 
rant you  they  shall  be  no  children;  and  I  shall  discharge 
Alphonse,  and  Albert,  and  Francois,  who  are  going  into 
the  National  Guards.  Yes,  yes,  those  three  gay  boule- 


HELENE    SAIXTK    MAUR,  77 

vardiers,  they  do  not  spare  young  and  pretty  girls,  and, 
besides,  they  are  fond  of  a  joke.  So  do  you  see,  Lachat 
will  be  talked  about,  and  it  will  bring  custom.  Ah, 
Lachat  knows  his  business.  '' 

And  so  it  transpired,  that  when  the  three  bonvivants 
came  to  the  cafe,  on  the  Saturday  mentioned,  three  hide- 
ously ugly  and  angular  spinsters  walked  up  to  the  table, 
each  wearing  a  white  muslin  frock,  a  white  apron  and 
an  austere  frown,  and  mildly  asked  for  the  three  orders. 
But  the  three  "virgins"  were  greeted  with  a  chorus  of 
shouts. 

"Ah,  Lachat,  you  rascal,  you  have  played  us  a  fine 
trick  !  "  vociferated  Long  Nose. 

"  Relics  of  the  Middle  Ages  !"  cried  Dudevant,  star- 
ing at  the  poor  women  with  astonishment,  which  they 
returned  with  interest. 

"Harpies!"  screamed  Long  Nose,  darting  that 
immense  organ  forward,  as  he  ogled  them. 

Then  the  three  guests  burst  into  uncontrollable 
laughter,  in  which  they  were  joined,  more  discreetly, 
however,  by  Lachat,  who  was  peeping  through  the  key- 
hole on  the  other  side  of  the  kitchen  door. 

This  was  more  than  the  unlucky  waitresses  could 
stand.  For  a  moment  they  glared  at  their  customers 
dumbly;  and  then,  seized  by  the  same  impulse,  tore  off 
their  aprons,  flung  them  on  the  floor,  and  fled  from  the 
place,  leaving  Lachat  and  his  wife  in  consternation,  and 
their  guests  in  convulsions. 

Dudevant  was  the  first  to  recover  his  balance;  and, 
on  looking  idly  around,  he  perceived  Lachat  dolorously 
shaking  his  head  and  lamenting  the  predicament  which 
the  too  free  use  of  his  "  brains  "  had  placed  him  in.  A 
sudden  idea  occurred  to  Dudevant  himself,  the  conse- 
quences of  which,  to  him  at  least,  were  eventually  as 


78  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

tragical  as  those  of  Lachat's  recent  "  idea  "  were  com- 
ical. 

"  Lachat,"  he  called  to  the  disconsolate  host,  who  was 
now  undergoing,  as  a  matter  of  course,  a  scoring  from 
his  wife  at  his  stupid  "jest;  "  "  Lachat,  you  played  us  a 
trick,  it  is  true,  but  we  are  sorry  for  you.  Now,  I  will 
tell  you  what  to  do.  For  the  remainder  of  to-day,  that 
is,  until  midnight,  myself  and  my  two  friends  here  will 
put  on  the  aprons  and  serve  your  customers,  while  you 
occupy  yourself  in  procuring  new  waiters.  And,  mark 
you,  Lachat,  on  this  condition,  you  are  to  treat  us 
exactly  as  you  would  real  waiters,  and  you  are  to  call  us, 
if  you  have  occasion  to  speak  to  us  at  all,  by  the  names 
of  your  old  waiters.  Is  it  agreed  ? " 

Lachat  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  his  eccentric 
guests,  bewildered  and  silent. 

"Yes,  yes,  by  all  means,  we  will  have  it  so,"  cried 
they,  pressing  forward;  "come,  Lachat,  you  owe  us 
something  for  our  disappointment." 

"  Very  well,  then,"  assented  the  restaurateur,  scratch- 
ing his  head,  with  a  doubtful  air. 

"  Enough,"  said  Dudevant,  removing  his  coat;  "get 
us  the  jackets,  the  aprons,  and  some  of  your  own  tog- 
gery; show  us  a  place  to  make  our  toilets  in,  and,  mean- 
time, get  us  some  soup  and  a  ragout,  with  a  bottle  of 
Frontinac,  and  send  it  into  the  chamber  to  us.  We  shall 
soon  be  at  our  posts,  I  promise  you." 

Half  an  hour  afterwards,  the  three  guests,  now  trans- 
formed into  three  solemn- faced  waiters,  stationed  them- 
selves behind  as  many  separate  tables. 

Neither  of  the  three  was  long  without  customers; 
and  customers,  too,  who  made  themselves  exceedingly 
interesting,  especially  to  Dudevant.  As  for  his  idea,  it 
was  destined,  droll  as  it  then  appeared  to  him,  to  be  a 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  79 

fatal  one,  as  we  shall  hereafter  see.  For  the  present, 
however,  it  was  to  end  merely  in  an  adventure  decidedly 
to  his  liking. 

In  the  meantime,  Lachat,  having  seen  the  improvised 
waiters  in  their  respective  places  with  evident  satisfac- 
tion, placed  his  hat  on  his  head  with  the  air  of  a  pro- 
prietor who  employs  none  but  the  best  in  his  estab- 
lishment, and  sallied  into  the  street,  observing,  as  he 
went  out: 

"  I  am  going  to  Issy,  where  there  are  some  honest 
fellows  from  Brittany,  who  love  the  King.  I  want  no 
more  National  Guard  chaps.  I  shall  return  to-morrow 
morning." 

As  for  Madame,  who  was  the  purveyor  of  the  res- 
taurant, that  worthy  dame  equipped  herself  with  an 
enormous  covered  basket,  and  went  off  in  search  of  the 
usual  Saturday  evening  supplies,  an  errand  from  which 
she  seldom  returned  before  ten  o'clock. 

Left  thus  entirely  to  themselves,  with  no  one  nearer 
than  the  cook  in  the  kitchen,  the  waiters  had  already 
begun  to  enjoy  the  situation  immensely,  when  just  as 
the  little  clock  which  stared  out  from  the  wall  of  the 
cafe  had  tinkled  seven  strokes,  two  young  men,  dressed 
in  the  extreme  of  the  fashion,  wearing  their  rapiers 
ostentatiously,  and  chattering  like  magpies,  entered  the 
saloon,  and  were  politely  seated  by  Gascoigne.  whose 
table  was  nearest  the  door. 

"What  will  you  have,  gentlemen?"  asked  he,  with 
an  air  which  gave  no  suspicion  that  he  was  a  novice. 

"  Oh,"  answered  one  of  the  two,  a  dark-featured  Gas- 
con, whose  manner  was  provokingly  impertinent;  "  bring 
us  some  kind  of  fish,  a  fowl  each,  truffles,  the  'etceteras,' 
and  three  bottles  of  Hermitage.  And,  look  you,  fellow, 
do  not  shake  the  bottles." 

This   "  Hermitage "   was   a   favorite  wine   with   de- 


So  HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR. 

bauchees,  since,  although  much  stronger  than  the  other 
table  wines  then  in  use,  it  left  no  very  disagreeable 
effects  from  its  too  free  indulgence. 

While  Gascoigne  was  absent  in  the  kitchen  delivering 
this  order,  a  tall  and  sedate  gentleman,  somberly  dressed, 
came  in  quietly,  and  seated  himself  at  the  table  presided 
over  by  Long  Nose.  This  personage  attracted  no  atten- 
tion from  the  two  gossipers,  as,  in  a  deep  and  curiously 
measured  voice,  he  gave  his  order  for  a  moderate  dinner 
without  wine.  Nor  did  he  give  more  than  a  passing 
glance  at  them;  immediately  relapsing  into  himself,  and 
thereafter  paying  no  attention,  apparently,  to  the  clatter 
of  tongues  at  the  next  table. 

The  loquacity  of  the  two  convives  was,  in  fact,  extra- 
ordinary, and  to  Dudevant,  who  was  observing  the  new 
arrival,  his  indifference  appeared  suspiciously  affected. 

The  conversation  of  the  two  fashionables  was  led  by 
the  Gascon,  who  addressed  his  friend  as  Eugene,  and 
was  in  turn  addressed  as  "Victor."  The  latter  was 
probably  twenty-five  years  of  age,  yet  his  shrewd  and 
cynical  face,  and  confident  and  ready  speech,  interlarded 
though  it  was  with  frequent  insipid  phrases,  belonged 
naturally  to  a  much  older  man. 

"  Do  3*ou  know,"  observed  he,  as  he  held  the  ends  of  a 
long  and  black  "imperial"  between  his  thumbs  and 
forefingers,  "  we  had  -no  right  to  expect  any  better 
things  from  the  King?  When  his  grandfather  died  he 
declared  that  he  did  not  know  how  to  reign.  Ah,  if 
Louis  XV.  had  only  given  up  the  ghost  twenty  years 
sooner,  what  a  fortunate  death  it  would  have  been  for 
France,  and  especially  for  Louis  XVI !  It  was  a  relief, 
when  he  did  go,  to  everybody  except  the  parasites." 

"Well,  there  was  no  weeping,  pardieu!  among  the 
people — that  is  certainly  true.  And  what  a  devil  of  a 
hurry  they  were  in  to  get  him  under  ground!  And  no 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  8l 

wonder;  he  is  said  to  have  laughed  just  before  he  died, 
and  said:  'After  all,  I  do  not  complain;  there  is  no 
more  juice  in  the  orange;  France  is  bankrupt.'  This 
he  actually  said  to  his  mistress,  who  did  not  wait  for 
the  carriage  to  take  him  to  St.  Denis,  before  she  began 
to  pack  her  wardrobe." 

"Poor  France!  "  observed  the  Gascon;  "always  in 
the  toils  of  a  woman!  There  is  Jeannie  Poisson,  who 
never  in  her  life  could  rid  herself  of  a  fishy  name  or  a 
fishy  smell,  much  as  she  insisted  on  being  called  Mad- 
ame La  Pompadour.  When  she  found  that  Louis  was 
never  able  to  understand  a  mot  until  she  explained 'it  to 
him,  she  became  ennuied,  and,  being  ambitious,  turned 
her  talents  to  greater  account  by  ruling  the  kingdom  as 
well  as  the  King." 

"It  is  very  strange,"  mused  the  other;  "even  our 
men  of  brains  are  mere  toys  in  the  hands-  of  these 
intriguantes.  For  instance,  Danton,  that  new  captain 
of  the  Jacobins.  Danton  can  thunder  in  the  tribune 
like  another  Jove,  but  he  can  also  '  mew'  in  the  boudoir 
like  a  grimalkin.  They  say  he  has  five  mistresses  now 
and  that  they  are  all  savagely  jealous  of  each  other." 

"Heavens!  No  wonder  he  raves,  then,  when  he  gets 
in  the  Convention.  His  enemies  there  are  not  half  so 
terrible  as  the  petticoats." 

"But  now,  they  say,  he  is  chasing  a  star;  that  is,  he 
is  after  Venus." 

"  Peste,  my  friend,"  sneered  the  other,  "  you  are  not 
in  good  taste;  you  are  mysterious." 

"Oh,  well,  then,"  returned  his  companion,  coloring 
with  a  touch  of  resentment,  "  to  be  plainer,  if  you  wish 
it,  he  is  in  love  with  Mile.  Sainte  Maur." 

"Sacre!  with  that  incomprehensible?  She  who  is  in 
league  with  Lucifer?  That  icicle?" 

"Tut,  tut,"  retorted  the  purveyor  of  this  surprising 


82  HELENE    SAIXTE  MAUR. 

news;  "rumor  is  always  wrong,  especially  if  it  comes 
from  the  gazettes.  I  know  some  of  these  fellows  who 
write;  they  are  magnificent  liars,  that  is  all." 

This  unconscious  shot  at  Dudevant  struck  him 
between  the  teeth.  He  raised  the  napkin  he  carried  on 
his  arm,  to  hide  the  anger  that  shone  in  his  face,  but  of 
course  he  could  say  nothing.  "  Devil  take  the  fellow," 
he  contented  himself  with  saying,  under  his  breath;  "I 
will  pay  him  for  that  sometime." 

"You  see,"  continued  the  speaker,  "it  is  all  owing  to 
the  lessons  she  took  from  this  great  scientist  Mesmer, 
that  she  is  able  to  play  such  havoc.  Still,  she  has  the 
semblance  of  an  angel,  and  may  have  been  one.*  At  any 
rate,  everybody  has  remarked  the  likeness  she  bears  to 
the  great  huntress  of  the  Greeks,  and  you  know  Diana 
herself  was  changed  into  Hecate.  However,  Danton 
should  keep  his  head,  even  though  he  can  not  retain  his 
heart.  He  will  soon  need  the  first  with  Robespierre, 
who  is  anxious  to  try  Doctor  Guillotin's  machine  on  it." 

"But,  after  all,  Robespierre  declares  that  he  adores 
blood  and  brains,  and  Danton  has  plenty  of  both." 

"Oh,  Robespierre  likes  blood  and  brains,  yes.  Pooh! 
so  does  the  pole-cat.  When  it  finds  a  poultry  yard,  it 
feasts  on  nothing  but  the  blood  and  brains  of  the  fowl. 
Yes,  to  be  sure,  Robespierre  is  the  pole-cat,  and  Paris  is 
his  poultry  yard." 

Another  stab  at  Dudevant,  whose  face  was  now  pur- 
ple behind  his  napkin. 

"Ah,  well,"  reflected  Eugene,  "Danton  has  his 
friends.  There  is  his  Achates,  Camille  Desmoulins,  who 
has  written  such  stirring  incendiarisms  over  the  name, 
'Attorney-General  of  the  Lantern.'  " 

"  And  who  will  help  behead  his  friend  by  his  impru- 
dences. He  has  already  given  the  Convention  the  idea 
of  using  the  street  lantern  posts  for  gallows.  After 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  83 

awhile  the  idea  will  recoil  upon  this  poetaster  Desmoul- 
ins." 

At  this  moment,  there  entered  the  cafe  an  exceed- 
ingly handsome  but  effeminate  appearing  youth,  of 
perhaps  twenty,  attired  in  the  dress  of  a  cavalier,  and 
wearing  a  fine  rapier.  He  was  rather  short  of  stature, 
but  he  was  perfectly  formed,  though  a  trifle  too  sloping 
on  the  shoulders.  His  short  upper  lip  was  graced  by  a 
black  moustache;  black  and  short  locks  of  curling  hair 
clustered  around  the  cream  and  rose-tinted  face;  while 
from  under  his  gray  beaver  (which  he  did  not  remove) 
two  bright  black  eyes  glanced  boldly  around  the  room. 
Evidently,  this  handsome  youth  possessed  an  independ- 
ent spirit,  and  one  not  easily  subdued. 

Seating  himself  at  the  table  attended  by  Dudevant, 
he  gave  an  order  for  several  dishes,  in  a  musical  and 
clear  voice,  and  began  humming  a  popular  air. 

Dudevant's  manner,  as  he  took  the  order,  was,  to  say 
the  least,  surprising.  He  started,  stared  at  his  customer, 
colored  redly;  and,  coughing  violently,  as  if  to  conceal 
his  embarrassment,  went  off  toward  the  kitchen  with  the 
gait  of  one  who  has  had  a  sudden  and  unexpected 
shock.  He  was  gone  a  long  time;  and  in  the  interval  of 
waiting,  the  youth  continued  to  hum  his  lively  air, 
oblivious,  it  was  seen,  to  everything  in  the  place  except 
his  elegant  and  very  small  boot,  with  which  he  amused 
himself  by  tapping  with  his  rapier's  sheath.  He  was  not 
permitted  to  monopolize  himself  very  long,  however;  he 
had  attracted  the  attention  of  the  two  at  Gascoigne's 
table.  They  proceeded  at  once  to  guy  him;  and  the 
very  pointed  remarks  which  came  from  that  quarter 
were  quite  loud  enough  for  him  to  hear — as  they  in- 
tended he  should. 

"Soh!"  cried  Monsieur  Victor,  ogling  him  impu- 
dently; "here  is  a  fledgeling  that  has  not  moulted.  He 


84  HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR. 

seems  to  invite  some  one  to  pluck  his  feathers,  eh, 
Eugene  ?" 

At  this  deliberate  attack  the  youth  fixed  his  dark 
eyes  upon  the  speaker  with  a  resentful  expression  in 
them;  but  he  said  nothing  and  ceased  to  hum  to  him- 
self. 

"A  pretty  nestling!"  continued  the  Gascon,  who  by 
this  time  had  disposed  of  his  bottle  of  "  Hermitage  " 
and  was  decidedly  ripe  for  mischief.  "Yes," he  repeated, 
rising  from  his  seat  and  approaching  the  young  stran- 
ger, who  began  softly  stroking  his  delicate  moustache 
with  a  hand  as  fair  as  a  woman's,  and  certainly  as  small, 
while  his  eyes  were  now  fixed  upon  the  floor. 

"  Can  you  use  that  plaything?"  inquired  the  obtru- 
der,  mockingly,  as  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  youth's  sword 
hilt. 

"Yes!"  retorted  the  latter,  suddenly  bounding  out 
of  his  chair;  and  in  an  instant  the  weapon  was  out  of 
its  scabbard.  "  And  with  this 'plaything  '  I  am  going 
to  teach  you  to  dance,  ruffian! " 

Then,  as  the  astounded  bravo  recoiled,  the  cavalier 
advanced  upon  him,  exclaiming: 

"  Draw,  fellow,  draw!  " 


CHAPTER  X. 

DUDEVANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

The  amazement  of  the  Gascon  at  the  peremptory 
invitation  of  the  youthful  stranger  was  as  profound  as 
it  was  ludicrous.  His  arms  fell  drooping  at  his  sides, 
his  rather  large  mouth  opened  with  a  gasp,  and  he 
stared  at  the  "  ruffled  gallant "  without  uttering  a  word. 

The  astonishment  of  Monsieur  Eugene  was  almost  as 
great  as  his  friend's,  but  not  so  prolonged. 

"Peste!"  cried  he,  coming  forward  and  surveying 
the  challenger  with  a  stare  no  longer  impertinent,  but 
displaying  intense  curiosity;  "who  have  we  here  in  this 
boudoir  knight  ?  " 

"It  matters  not  who  I  am,"  retorted  the  young- 
stranger,  impatiently.  "This  bragging  fellow  has 
insulted  me,  and  if  he  is  not  a  coward,  he  will  give  me 
satisfaction.  Come,  now,"  he  continued,  contemptu- 
ously;  "  is  he  afraid  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,"  promptly  replied  Eugene.  "  My 
friend  will  fight  you,  of  course;  but  this  is  no  place  for 
such  an  encounter.  We  can  arrange — " 

But  the  youth  impetuously  interrupted  him, 

"He  must  fight  now,"  cried  he,  stamping  upon  the 
floor,  angrily. 

The  three  soi-disant  waiters  had  gathered  around 
the  group,  scarcely  less  interested  in  the  affray  than 
they. 

Dudevant  nudged  Gascoigne. 

"  Ma  foi,"  whispered  he,  with  a  covert  laugh;  "  here 
L;  tin:  best  of  luck  for  us!  Our  adventure  was  well 

85  ' 


86  HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR. 

planned;  it  is  going  to  amount  to  something.  I  say, 
Gascoigne,  let  us  help  this  brave  youngster  against  that 
bully  who  has  insulted  our  profession  so  grossly." 

"Certainly,"  Gascoigne  whispered  back;  "besides, 
the  poor  boy  will  need  it." 

"  Pshaw,  you  are  wrong,  if  you  think  him  a  baby.  I 
know  him." 

"What,  you  know  him?"  ejaculated  Gascoigne,  sur- 
prised and  more  curious  than  ever;  "Well,  then,  who 
the  devil  is  he?" 

"  It  is  Monsieur  Aubrey,"  replied  Dudevant,  in  a 
very  loud  whisper.  Then,  turning  toward  the  belliger- 
ent pair,  who  were  frowning  at  each  other  in  precisely 
the  same  way  that  two  old  women  would  have  done." 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  with  great  politeness,  "behind 
the  Caf6  there  is  a  little  garden  with  a  very  high  wall. 
It  is  a  very  private  and  convenient  place,  and  no  one 
will  disturb  you  there,  I  can  well  assure  you  of  that. 
If  it  is  agreeable  to  you,  I  will  show  you  the  way  to  it." 

"Do  so,  then,"  commanded  young  Aubrey.  "I  pre- 
sume Monsieur  will  not  object?  "  addressing  the  Gascon, 
who  by  this  time  had  become  entirely  sober,  and  was 
taking  the  matter  very  seriously  indeed,  considering  the 
jocular  way  in  which  he  had  brought  it  about. 

'Oh,  I  am  at  your  service,"  replied  he,  with  affected 
indifference. 

"Let  us  go,  then,"  said  Aubrey,  briefly;  and  the 
whole  party  started  at  once  toward  the  rear  of  the 
saloon.  Dudevant  walked  in  front,  at  the  side  of  the 
youth,  to  whom,  as  he  opened  the  door  to  the  garden, 
he  whispered: 

"Do  not  start  or  exclaim — I  know  you." 

"And  I  know  you,"  replied  the  other,  quietly,  and 
without  evincing  the  least  surprise.  "You  wonder  what 
all  this  means,  do  you  not?" 


HELENE    SAINTE   MAUR.  87 

"By  Jupiter!     I  am  nonplussed!" 

"  And"  I  no  less  so,  to  see  you  in  a  waiter's  apron,  in 
a  second-rate  cafe,"  returned  the  :,  outh,  with  a  satirical 
smile  which  showed  marvelously  fine  teeth.  "  However, 
this  is  an  age  of  adventure,  is  it  not?  So,  let  us  wait 
until  there  is  no  cockatrice  at  our  heels  to  charm  our 
tongues  before  we  exchange  confidences.  But — stay. 
Go  you  back  to  the  table  where  the  middle-aged  gen- 
tleman sits  alone  and  bring  him  into  the  garden.  He 
is  a  surgeon,  and  is,  like  very  few  of  our  sex,  a  discreet 
man." 

"Ah,  you  know  him,  then?" 

"Yes." 

"  Very  good.  I  am  at  your  disposal,  even  if  you 
should  desire  me  to  take  this  little  affair  off  your  hands." 

The  youth's  eyes  flashed  scornfully. 

"  Do  you  think  I  am  not  in  earnest  with  this  con- 
temptible fellow?  Well,  you  will  see.  I  intend  to 
chastise  him  by  leaving  my  card,  as  they  say,  buttoned  to 
his  cheek.  Go,  and  bring  the  surgeon  back  with  you." 

"But  suppose  he  will  not  come?" 

"  Pshaw,  it  is  I  who  asked  him  to  come  here.  It  is 
not  desirable,  however,  that  these  fellows  should  be 
informed  of  that;  so,  Doctor  Souchon  will  not  stir  until 
some  one  summons  him." 

"A  thousand  wonders!  muttered  Dudevant,  as  he 
hastened  to  obey,  "  what  is  going  to  come  of  this  ?" 

A  second  later,  and  just  as  the  parties  were  taking 
their  places,  Dudevant  reappeared  with  the  surgeon, 
who  quietly  walked  to  a  corner  of  the  garden,  and 
turned  his  back  t^  the  party. 

Aubrey  led  off  witho1  t  wasting  any  time.  He  was 
fully  three  inches  shorter  than  his  adversary,  but  as 
agile  as  a  cat.  The  Gascon  was  soon  convinced  that  the 
"  ruffled  youth  "  was  at  least  no  novice  in  the  handling  of 


88  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

a  rapier;  and,  while  he  himself  was  no  bungler,  it  was 
quite  evident,  to  the  chagrin  of  his  friends  as  well  as 
himself,  that  he  stood  but  a  poor  chance  of  worsting  his 
young  opponent.  The  latter  darted  in  and  out  from 
him  with  a  swiftness  and  dexterity  that  was  bewildering; 
at  the  same  time  keeping  his  own  person  skilfully  cov- 
ered, while  he  occasionally  cried  out,  in  a  tone  of  sar- 
casm that  was  maddening  to  his  victim: 

"Dance,  dance,  I  tell  you  !  " 

And  dance  the  Gascon  did,  in  spite  of  himself;  that 
is  to  say,  he  was  compelled  to  skip  hither  and  thither  in 
the  most  ludicrous  fashion,  simply  to  avoid  the  point  of 
the  other's  steel,  which  every  instant  threatened  to  probe 
him.  In  fact,  this  will-o-the-wisp  seemed  quite  capable 
of  making  him  dance,  and  also  of  skewering  him,  when- 
ever he  choose  to  do  so. 

At  length  the  youth  made  a  very  clever  body  feint 
which  completely  deceived  the  Gascon,  and  left  the  face 
of  the  latter  fairly  exposed.  Before  he  could  recover 
his  guard,  he  received  a  blow  on  the  left  cheek,  which 
laid  it  open  to  the  bone,  and  sent  him  reeling  back  into 
the  arms  of  his  friend. 

"Oh,  Mon  Dieu! "  he  cried,  in  the  accents  of  a  dying 
person;  "he  has  killed  me!  Ah-h,  my  friend,  I  am  a 
dying  man — a  dead  man!  Help — ugh-h." 

And  with  his  eyes  turned  upward,  his  face  streaming 
with  blood,  he  appeared,  indeed,  to  be  telling  the  truth. 
The  surgeon  hastened  to  him,  drew  from  his  pocket 
some  lint  and  a  box  of  ointment,  and,  calling  for  a 
sponge  and  a  basin  of  water,  was  instantly  absorbed  in 
manipulating  the  wound. 

But,  if  the  Gascon's  conduct  verged  upon  the  ridic- 
ulous (for  he  was  by  no  means  seriously  wounded,  nor 
even  disabled),  that  of  his  enemy  was  incomprehensible. 
At  least  it  was  so  to  all  except  Dudevant,  who  apparently 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  89 

saw  nothing  surprising  in  it.  The  delicate  face  of  the 
youth  became  colorless,  r.he  plump  figure  trembled,  and 
he  gasped,  faintly: 

"  Take  me  into  the  cafe  and  call  a  carriage." 

Dudevant  promptly  offered  his  arm,  and  Aubrey, 
leaning  on  it  in  great  agitation,  returned  to  the  saloon 
and  tottered  to  a  chair. 

Having  assisted  him  into  the  seat  Dudevant  called 
out: 

"  Long  Nose,  bring  me  a  glass  of  wine,  and  do  not 
be  an  instant  about  it." 

Long  Nose  did  as  he  was  bidden,  and,  as  he  handed 
the  wine  to  Dudevant,  he  whispered  : 

"  Sapristi,  you  forget  that  I  am  Alphonso.  And — 
your  friend,  too;  it  seems  he  also  has  lost  his  head." 

"  Never  mind,"  returned  Dudevant,  waving  his  hand 
impatiently.  "  Now,  then,  run  and  fetch  a  fiacre,  and  be 
careful  that  you  do  not  fall  over  your  nose.  You  will 
find  one  at  the  Pont  Neuf." 

This  order  Long  Nose  also  hastened  to  obey,  and 
without  stopping  for  his  hat  or  removing  his  apron.  In 
a  few  minutes  he  returned,  with  an  English-looking  per- 
son at  his  heels. 

Dudevant,  who  was  vigorously  fanning  his  friend, 
scarcely  glanced  at  the  man,  as  he  said,  sharply: 

"  Here,  my  man,  get  on  your  wheels  at  once,  and  take 
this  gentleman  to  the  address  he  will  presently  give 
you." 

But,  instead  of  instantly  obeying  these  summary 
orders,  the  man  stared  at  the  young  cavalier  with  a  look 
of  intense  astonishment.  Then,  over  his  rosy  and  good- 
looking  countenance  there  rapidly  spread  a  smile  that 
was  indescribable.  He  was  about  to  speak,  when  Aubrey 
raised  his  eyes  and  saw  him  standing  motionless  before 
him.  The  color  came  suddenly  back  into  his  cheeks,  he 


9O  HELENS   SAINTE    MAUR. 

gave  the  man  a  swift  sign  to  be  silent,  and,  springing 
from  his  chair,  walked  briskly  toward  the  door,  saying 
in  an  undertone  : 

"  Come  on,  Mr.  Guppy,  and  take  me  home,  if  you 
please." 

"With  all  me'eart,"  responded  that  genial  individual, 
for  it  was  indeed  he;  and  without  any  further  hesitation, 
and  with  the  gravity  of  a  bishop,  he  assisted  Monsieur 
Aubrey  into  the  fiacre  which  stood  at  the  door.  In 
another  second  he  was  whirling  rapidly  away  from  the 
Cafe  of  the  Three  Virgins,  in  the  doorway  of  which  three 
masculine  and  eager  faces,  with  the  nose  of  Long  Nose 
in  the  center,  remained  as  long  as  the  fiacre  was  in  sight. 

The  opportune  appearance  of  Mr.  Guppy,  although 
a  surprise,  is  easily  explained.  His  indulgent  master 
allowed  him  certain  half-holidays,  and,  this  being  one, 
he  had  gone  to  the  kitchen  of  the  Cafe  Conti  to  meet 
an  old  acquaintance  from  London,  who  had  adopted  the 
whip  for  his  profession  on  migrating  to  Paris.  His 
stand  was  close  to  the  Pont  Neuf,  and  there  his  friend 
found  him.  The  wine  at  the  Cafe  Conti  had  proved,  in 
the  vernacular  of  Mr.  Guppy,  "  too  willainous  "eady," 
and  he  was  constrained  to  assist  the  "  whip  "  to  a  bed. 

With  a  thoughtful  regard  for  his  friend's  interest, 
Guppy  had  taken  temporary  charge  of  the  fiacre;  and, 
being  a  person  of  keen  eyesight  as  well  as  of  prompt 
action,  he  was  the  first  to  espy  Long  Nose  flying  toward 
the  bridge,  bareheaded  and  wearing  the  apron  of  a 
waiter.  He  had  very  adroitly  allowed  LongNose  to  rush 
squarely  into  his  arms,  and,  of  course,  secured  him. 

There  was  an  ecstatic  twinkle  in  Mr.  Guppy's  eyes 
as  he  drove  on  with  the  dexterity  of  a  practiced  cabby; 
and  he  addressed  himself  with  a  sententious  force  which 
greatly  relieved  his  feelings: 

"  Well,  'ere's  a  lark!     I'm  floored!  " 


CHAPTER  XI. 

FERDEAN,  THE  MONEY-CHANGER. 

When  the  precise  extent  of  Monsieur  Victor's  wound 
was  ascertained  by  the  surgeon,  he  was  turned  over  to 
his  friend  by  the  professional  gentleman,  with  a  dry 
suggestion  that  in  future  he  should  know  his  man  better 
before  attempting  to  pull  his  ears.  Monsieur  Eugene's 
concern  thereupon  speedily  changed  to  contempt.  He 
requested  Dudevant  to  send  for  a  fiacre,  but  the  latter 
explained  that  he  and  his  two  friends  were  alone  in  the 
restaurant,  that  they  were  only  volunteer  waiters,  and 
he  must  go  for  a  conveyance  himself.  "Although,"  he 
observed,  maliciously,  in  the  hearing  of  the  collapsed 
flamboyant,  "your  friend  is  more  damaged  in  his  nerves 
than  in  his  person." 

Monsieur  Victor,  who  had  proved  so  unworthy  of  his 
name,  scowled  angrily  at  this  offensive  speech,  and,  shak- 
ing his  hand  at  Dudevant  threateningly,  said: 

"  Oh,  you  shall  pay  for  this,  I  tell  you.  I  know  you 
now,  and  I  believe  you  are  at  the  bottom  of  this  busi- 
ness, Scelerat!  "  And,  without  waiting  for  a  reply,  he 
took  the  arm  of  his  friend,  and  left  the  cafe.  A  fiacre 
was  found  in  the  vicinity,  into  which  Eugene  placed 
him,  and,  coldly  bidding  him  good-night,  quietly  slipped 
away,  and  left  him  to  his  own  reflections. 

Thus  abandoned,  the  Gascon  rode  off  to  his  lodgings 
in  a  tumult  of  passion.  After  several  alternate  spasms 
of  rage  and  muttered  promises  of  revenge,  he  reached 
his  rooms.  By  this  time  he  had  partially  consoled  him- 

91 


92  HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR. 

self  for  his  defeat  at  the  hands  of  a  "  boy,"  and  was  so 
preoccupied  in  brooding  over  Dudevant's  supposed  par- 
ticipation in  the  affair,  that  he  had  almost  forgotten  the 
pain  from  which  he  was  still  suffering.  He  had  not 
exactly  formulated  a  plan;  but  he  had  resolved  to  locate 
his  youthful  conqueror  and  watch  for  a  favorable — that 
is  to  say,  a  safe — opportunity  to  pay  him  off  with  double 
measure.  He  was  quite  capable  of  taking  revenge  in 
any  form  in  which  it  might  present  itself;  he  would 
not  be  at  all  particular  as  to  the  means  he  should  be 
obliged  to  employ.  . 

But  when  he  entered  his  rooms  he  ran  to  his  glass; 
and  as  he  looked  at  his  reflected  and  now  ugly  and  sin- 
ister image,  he  uttered  a  howl  of  rage.  A  hideous  scar 
extended  half-way  across  his  cheek,  and  he  realized,  the 
moment  he  saw  it,  that  it  was  likely  to  leave  there  a 
broad  and  deep  cicatrice  which  would  disfigure  him  for 
the  rest  of  his  life.  As  he  glared  at  the  caricature  of 
himself,  his  fury  became  uncontrollable,  and  he  gave 
himself  up  to  it  with  an  abandon  that  was  frightful  to 
witness.  For  an  hour  or  more  he  continued  to  invoke 
unspeakable,  calamitous,  and  unheard-of  curses  upon 
Dudevant  and  the  young  stranger  who  had  so  sadly  and 
fairly  worsted  him;  and  then,  exhausted  at  last,  he  threw 
himself  down  upon  a  settee,  and  sunk  into  a  sullen 
stupor. 

The  whole  nature  of  this  man  was  evil;  and  Dude- 
vant, as  well  as  the  young  duelist,  had  aroused  in  him — 
not  the  lion,  but  the  cobra,  whose  slimy  and  sinuous 
folds  they  were  yet  to  feel  coiling  about  their  unguarded 
throats.  It  is  doubtful,  indeed,  if  he  had  ever  in  his  life 
experienced  an  emotion  that  was  not  ignoble  or  vicious. 
•  Vindictive,  malicious  and  treacherous,  he  possessed  the 
confidence  of  no  one,  and  the  good  will  of, few.  He 
had  come  to  Paris  some  five  months  previous  to 


HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR.  93 

his  unlucky  adventure,  to  enjoy  himself,  he  said; 
and  he  claimed  to  own  an  estate  in  Gascony,  some- 
where near  Bayonne,  which  yielded  him  a  compe- 
tent income,  although  it  appears  that  his  improvi- 
dent habits  brought  him  to  the  end  of  his  monthly 
receipts  in  about  half  that  length  of  time.  He  had 
made  the  acquaintance  of  Paul  Cambray  soon  after  his 
arrival,  and  had  sought  his  company  constantly,  and 
had  secured  at  least  the  good  will  of  the  young  man, 
until  he  was,  unluckily,  introduced  to  Clarise  at  the 
theatre,  where  she  had  participated  in  a  charade  that 
required  her  to  wear  a  half-mask  and  domino.  He  had 
only  obtained  a  partial  view  of  her  face  on  that  occasion; 
and,  as  Clarise  had  truthfully  said,  he  had  seen  her  sub- 
sequently at  a  distance  through  a  closed  window  of  the 
chateau,  to  which  he  had  followed  her  on  the  night 
referred  to,  hoping  to  find  future  opportunities  of 
attracting  her  toward  himself. 

On  the  morning  of  the  Saturday  following  his 
encounter  at  the  cafe,  he  went  out  for  the  first  time  for 
a  promenade.  He  was  feeling  languid  and  disconso- 
late, and  in  a  mood  to  welcome  the  companionship  of 
any  acquaintance  he  might  chance  to  meet.  He  had 
passed  several  whom  he  knew,  but  they  hurried  past 
him  with  averted  faces,  or  with  a  sidelong  smirk. 

"  Thousand  devils  !  "  he  muttered,  between  his  set 
teeth;  "that  sneaking  Dudevant  has  informed  every- 
body." 

He  turned  off  the  boulevard,  and  with  a  vague 
impulse  sought  Paul  Cambray's  quarters.  Paul  was  at 
home,  the  bank's  closing  hour  on  Saturday  being  twelve 
o'clock.  He  received  his  visitor  with  surprise,  which 
was  greatly  increased  when  he  saw  the  red  scar  upon 
his  cheek. 

"Oh,    it   is   you,    Monsieur   Victor    D'Artivan,"   he 


94  HELENE    SAINTE   MAUR. 

exclaimed,  coldly,  and  with  a  great  deal  of  embarrass- 
ment. 

"Yes,  of  course  it  is  I,  my  friend,"  replied  the  Gas- 
con, whose  assurance,  at  least,  never  deserted  him.  "I 
have  come  to  ask  you  to  overlook  my  conduct  when  I 
met  you  some  time  ago.  The  fact  is,  I  was  fuddled." 

Then  D'Artivan  held  out  his  hand. 

Paul's  embarrassment  gave  way  to  renewed  sur- 
prise and,  it  shall  be  said  in  his  favor,  genuine  pleasure, 
at  this  apparently  manly  acknowledgment  of  his  offense 
by  the  man  whose  two  cheeks  he  had  lately  been  so 
eager  to  disfigure. 

But,  how  was  this?  Here  was  his  late  enemy  with 
one  of  his  cheeks  in  that  very  condition,  and,  yes,  plainly 
from  the  stroke  of  a  weapon  !  What  could  it  mean  ?  He 
stared  at  D'Artivan's  face,  while  he  cordially  shook  him 
by  the  hand,  and,  leading  him  to  a  chair,  asked,  hesita- 
tingly: 

"Pardon  me;  you  have  met  with  an  accident?" 

D'Artivan  glanced  at  him  furtively.  "  Oh,  then,  you 
do  not  know  about  it?" 

"About  what?"  inquired  Paul,  with  a  candid  look  of 
curiosity  that  convinced  the  other  of  his  sincerity. 

"Oh,  I  had  an  affair  a  few  days  ago,"  he  explained, 
greatly  pleased  that  here,  at  least,  he  was  beforehand 
with  the  gossipers.  "Yes,  and,  unfortunately,  as  I  was 
about  to  settle  my  man  with  a  cut  on  his  sword-arm  that 
would  have  excused  him  from  ever  accepting  another 
challenge,  my  foot  slipped  on  a  cursed  piece  of  orange 
peel  which  I  had  just  thrown  away  (you  are  aware  of  my 
car , less  habits),  and  I  :ell  forward  while  lunging  and 
received  my  enemy's  point  in  m  /  cheek." 

Paul  had  listened  to  this,  to  him,  very  plausible 
explanation  with  open-eyed  credulity. 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  95 

"  How  unfortunate!  "  he  exclaimed,  with  frank  sym- 
pathy. "  It  may  remain  there  for  life." 

"Enfer!  yes,  that  is  the  worst  of  it,"  responded 
D'Artivan,  suddenly  growing  black  at  the  thought. 

"And  who  was  your  antagonist?  "  inquired  Paul. 

"Oh,  a  fellow  who  called  himself  Aubrey.  He  acted 
very  offensively  toward  me  at  a  cafe — you  know  the 
place  where  I  used  to  dine — and  I  called  him  out.  Of 
course,  there  were  some  other  persons  present,  and  they 
have  taken  the  trouble  to  give  a  malicious  and  ridicu- 
lous version  of  the  accident ;  but  they  are  enemies  of 
mine,  and  I  shall  take  no  notice  of  their  stories.  As  for 
you,  I  am  sure  you  will  place  no  faith  in  them,  and  that 
we  are  excellent  friends  as  before." 

"  To  be  sure,"  returned  Paul,  who  was  not  the  one  to 
harbor  a  grudge  under  such  circumstances. 

Having  thus  restored  himself  with  Paul  Cambray, 
D'Artivan,  whom  the  story  of  the  duel  had  almost 
entirely  ostracised,  began  to  frequent  the  rooms  of  the 
latter  constantly,  and  to  receive  Paul  in  his  own  once  or 
t'vice  a  week .  They  went  out  a  great  deal  together,  not- 
withstanding that  Clarise  did  not  at  all  appear  to  like 
their  now  fraternal  relation,  and  had  almost  quarreled 
with  her  lover  on  account  of  it.  D'Artivan  had,  how- 
ever, completely  won  his  sympathy  by  telling  him 
enough  of  the  real  facts  concerning  the  unfortunate 
duel  to  convince  the  susceptible  youth  that  his  friend 
was  the  victim  of  persecution  and  misrepresentation. 
The  intimacy  therefore,  increased  instead  of  cooled,  in 
spite  of  the  strange  remarks  which  Paul  sometimes 
heard  of  the  affair  at  the  cafe,  until  the  two  young  men 
were  inseparable. 

D'Artivan,  at  this  time,  was  in  the  habit  of  visiting 
a  certain  money-lender  by  the  name  of  Ferdean,  who 
lived  in  an  obscure  street  near  the  barrier  of  the  Gobe- 


g6  HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR. 

lins,  entirely  alone.  Little  was  seen  or  known  of  this 
man  in  the  neighborhood.  He  was  supposed  to  be  an 
Arab;  at  all  events,  his  extremely  dark  and  oriental 
features  gave  warrant  to  this  supposition,  and  his  age 
was  about  that  of  D'Artivan,  whom,  in  fact,  he  greatly 
resembled,  both  in  figure  and  features.  Had  Ferdean 
been  less  dark  the  two  men  would  have  been  singularly 
alike  in  physical  appearance. 

One  evening  D'Artivan  climbed  the  dingy  stairs  of 
the  ancient  building,  in  the  fourth  story  of  which 
Ferdean  lived,  and,  rapping  sharply  at  the  rickety  door, 
was  bidden  by  a  voice  of  exceeding  harshness  to  come 
in. 

D'Artivan  unceremoniously  did  so,  pushing  the  door 
open  violently  with  his  foot.  The  room  was  large  and 
dingy,  and  contained  but  few  articles  of  poor  furniture, 
which  appeared  to  have  served  several  generations.  In 
fact,  the  only  articles  of  the  kind  in  the  squalid  chamber 
were  a  miserable  cot,  covered  with  faded  and  ragged 
bedclothes,  a  small  table,  which  leaned  against  the 
blackened  wall  on  its  three  legs,  a  black  iron  lamp, 
already  lighted,  which  stood  on  the  ancient  wooden 
mantel,  and,  lastly,  an  old  leathern-covered  chair  in  the 
middle  of  the  room,  on  the  present  occasion  containing 
the  dilapidated  figure  of  Ferdean. 

Ferdean  was  nodding  over  a  pipe,  with  a  stem  sev- 
eral feet  in  length,  which  allowed  the  bowl  to  rest  on 
the  toe  of  his  greasy  slipper. 

"At  it  again,  eh?"  exclaimed  his  visitor,  sniffing  the 
air,  which  had  a  peculiarly  pungent  odor. 

Ferdean  raised  his  eyes,  which  were  dull  and  vacant, 
turned  his  swarthy  face  toward  the  door,  and  replied, 
testily: 

"  What  would  you  have  ?  You  are  sound  in  body 
and  nerves,  and  know  nothing  of  my  torments.  I  smoke 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  97 

to  ease  them."  Then,  without  taking  any  further 
notice  of  his  caller,  he  lapsed  into  that  profound  and 
dreamy  stupor  which  the  veteran  opium-smoker  invites 
with  such  terrible  persistency  until  it  ends  in  perpetual 
chaos. 

D'Artivan  regarded  the  crouched  figure  scornfully 
for  a  few  seconds,  and  then,  stooping  over  it,  shouted 
in  its  ear. 

"  I  say,  Ferdean,  are  you  there? " 

The  dreamer  stirred  a  little,  and  muttered,  almost 
inaudibly: 

"  Besides,  it  is  the  breath  of  the  Gods." 

"Breath  of  Lucifer,"  returned  D'Artivan,  with  an 
impatient  sneer.  "  It  will  carry  your  own  breath  off 
some  of  these  times." 

Ferdean  offered  no  contradiction  to  this  prophecy. 

"Come,  come,"  cried  D'Artivan,  after  waiting  a 
moment  or  two  longer;  "rouse  yourself,  you  old  Shy- 
lock,  and  attend  to  business,  will  you?" 

No  answer  and  no  movement. 

"Million  devils!  "  shouted  the  Gascon;  "he's  in  the 
tomb/' 

And,  without  the  least  ceremony,  he  plucked  the  pipe 
out  of  Ferdean's  hand  and  tossed  it  into  the  farthest 
corner  of  the  room. 

Ferdean's  half-closed  eyes  flew  open  instantly,  and 
out  of  their  black  depths  two  fiery  gleams  shot  like 
meteors.  With  incredible  quickness  he  leaped  from  his 
chair,  and,  with  a  howl  of  rage  which  sounded  scarcely 
human,  he  drew  a  short  dagger  from  the  folds  of  his 
greasy  garment  and  darted  at  the  amazed  and,  in  fact, 
terrified  culprit. 

The  ugly  weapon  would  certainly  have  parted 
1  )'Artivan's  ribs  had  he  not  been  rendered  unusually 
nimble  by  fright,  which  also  added  to  hisstrength;  since, 


98  HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR. 

in  leaping  aside  to  avoid  the  blow  aimed  at  his  body,  he 
landed  against  the  opposite  wall.  Seizing  the  table, 
near  which  he  had  fortunately  landed,  he  thrust  it  in 
front  of  the  enraged  Ferdean,  who  had  that  moment 
again  darted  toward  him  with  the  upraised  knife.  ' 

Ferdean  struck  the  table  and  overturned  it,  and 
before  he  could  leap  over  it  D'Artivan  had  sprung  to 
the  side  of  the  cot  and  dragged  from  it  the  outer 
coverlet.  An  idea,  the  inspiration  of  fear,  had  darted 
into  his  mind. 

As  Ferdean  rushed  once  more  upon  him,  blinded  by 
rage,  and  holding  the  murderous  dagger  with  the  point 
toward  his  own  breast,  ready  for  a  down  stroke,  D'Arti- 
van skilfully  threw  the  quilt  full  at  his  pursuer's  front, 
enveloping  him  completely  in  its  ragged  folds.  Fer- 
dea'n's  foot  caught  in  one  of  its  many  holes;  he  stumbled 
and  fell,  uttered  a  single  fierce  shriek  and  laid  perfectly 
still. 

If  the  terror  of  D'Artivan  was  a  moment  before 
extreme,  his  horror  now  was  indescribable.  It  froze  his 
blood  and  held  him  rigid  and  dumb  where  he  stood. 
His  staring  eyes  glued  themselves  to  the  fearful  object 
lying  at  his  feet  under  its  ragged  pall;  and,  while  he 
looked,  a  stream  of  blood  began  slowly  to  creep  out 
from  under  the  quilt,  widening  upon  the  bare  floor  as  it 
came  toward  him. 

How  long  he  remained  in  that  frozen  attitude  he 
knew  not;  but  at  length  his  senses  began  to  return. 
He  moved  away  from  the  red  current  that  now  had 
almost  reached  his  feet;  closed  the  half-open  door  with 
an  unconscious  hand;  and  then,  trembling  and  white, 
chilled  and  stupefied,  he  sank  down  into  the  dead  man's 
chair. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A  PERLOUS  SITUATION. 

When  D'Artivan  entered  Ferdean's  room  it  was  only 
a  little  after  sunset.  When  he  dropped,  trembling  into 
the  dead  man's  chair  it  was  almost  dark.  Nothing  in 
the  dismal  place  was  now  visible  except  the  ghostly  out- 
lines revealed  by  the  feeble  and  funereal  light  of  the 
iron  lamp  on  the  mantel  shelf.  • 

As  soon  as  he  could  summon  courage  to  move,  he 
rose  and  walked  on  tip-toe,  as  if  the  noise  of  his  foot- 
steps might,  perchance,  awake  the  ghastly  sleeper 
yonder,  and  took  the  lamp  in  his  shaking  hand,  stopping 
a  moment  to  listen  to  the  solitary  footfalls  of  a  passing 
wayfarer  in  the  street  outside.  Then,  holding  the  light 
above  his  head,  he  slowly  crept  toward  the  stark  figure 
on  the  floor,  and  stood  looking,  in  quaking  dread,  upon 
its  muffled  shape.  The  blood  had  ceased  to  flow  from 
underneath  the  pall,  and  now  remained  in  a  clotted  pool 
at  one  side  of  the  body. 

For  several  minutes  D'Artivan  lingered  at  his  fearful 
inspection,  as  if  fascinated  by  the  weird  spectacle.  At 
length  he  stooped  down,  uncovered  the  body,  and 
turned  it  over  upon  its  back.  As  he  did  so  he  uttered  a 
cry  of  horror  and  staggered  backward.  Ferdean's  face 
was  completely  dyed  with  his  own  blood;  the  stiffened 
arms  and  hands  were  blood-soaked;  a  red  clot  had 
matted  the  long  hair  above  the  low  forehead,  giving  it 
an  aspect  hideous  beyond  description.  The  ivory 
handle  of  the  dagger  protruded  from  the  bloody  br 

99 


IOO  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

and  the  fierce  eyes  were  open,  and  stared  in  a  horrible 
manner  at  the  living  likeness  that  cowered  there  in  the 
corner  of  the  miserable  den. 

Overcome,  for  the  second  time,  by  this  ghastly  sight, 
D'Artivan  once  more  sank  into  the  chair  from  which  the 
Arab  had  so  short  a  while  ago  leaped  to  his  death.  He 
shrank  within  himself  as  he  touched  the  warm  leather, 
redolent  as  it  was  from  the  fumes  of  the  dead  man's 
pipe;  but  there  was  no  other  seat  in  the  chamber,  and 
his  limbs  refused  to  uphold  him. 

Now  he  endeavored  to  reflect.  He  had  realized, 
trom  the  moment  Ferdean's  awful  scream  smote  upon 
his  heart— as  well  as  upon  his  ear — that  his  own  situa- 
tion was  a  terrible  one.  He  had  entered  while  it  was 
yet  daylight,  and  he  dare  not  leave  until  he  had  consid- 
ered well.  Otherwise,  he  would  have  fled  at  the  instant 
he  heard  that  death-shriek.  But  something  must  be 
done.  At  any  moment  some  one  might  enter  and  find 
him  there.  And  if  he  was  thus  discovered  while  that 
horrid  object  lay  yonderwith  its  bloody  mask  upturned, 
the  dagger  still  sheathed  in  its  cloven  heart,  its  staring 
eyes  following  him  like  accusers — what  account  could 
he  give  of  the  awful  tragedy  that  would  for  one  instant 
be  believed?  None;  a  gens  d'armes'  escort,  a  dungeon, 
the  pretense  of  a  trial  and — the  iron  hook  of  a  street 
lantern  post.  That  would  be  his  fate  if  he  was  caught 
by  the  concierge,  or  by  any  red-capped  canaille,  attired 
in  his  velvet  breeches,  his  fine  long-coat  and  silken  hose. 
The  name  "aristocrat"'  was  no  longer  flung  as  an  epi- 
thet at  the  gentry  or  nobility  alone.  It  was  hurled  at 
the  ruffled  vulgarian  as  often  as  at  the  silken  courtier; 
and  when  and  where  it  struck  death  followed. 

D'Artivan's  reflections  decided  him.  He  went  to  the 
door  and  locked  it.  His  composure  had  gradually 
returned  while  he  was  evolving  his  idea  of  escape. 


HELENE    SAIXTE    MAUR.  IOI 

"  Undoubtedly,"  soliloquized  he,  aloud,  in  his  earnest- 
ness, "  I  was  seen  by  some  person  to  enter,  as  I  came 
here  before  it  was  dusk.  Very  well,  then,  I  must  not  be 
seen  going  out.  Ah,  I  have  it !  I  will  exchange  my 
dress  for  that  of  Ferdean,  who  is  the  same  size  as  my- 
self, and  resembled  me  so  strangely.  He  will  not  need 
his  clothes  any  longer;  and  besides,  pardieu,  my  own  will 
give  him  a  decent  burial  suit.  Then,  I  will  pull  the  bed 
over  him;  that  will  conceal  everything.  Good,  I  am 
coming  around  to  myself  again." 

These  shrewd  reflections,  thus  repeated  to  himself 
aloud,  had  an  exhilarating  effect;  they  seemed  to  inspire 
him  with  more  courage  and  more  confidence  in  his 
resources.  He  looked  boldly,  and  without  shaking  his 
chin — as  he  had  been  doing  a  little  while  before  at  the 
corpse  on  the  floor — and  continued  to  rehearse  the 
revolting  part  he  was  about  to  enact: 

"What  next  ?  Yes,  I  will  then  open  the  door,  and  I 
will  seat  myself  with  my  back  to  it,  with  Ferdean's  pipe 
in  my  mouth,  though  I  shall  not  dare  to  smoke  that 
infernal  stuff  with  the  heathenish  name.  Faugh!  it 
made  a  fool  of  Ferdean,  it  would  make  a  caged  rat  of 
me.  Very  well,  the  concierge  will  come  prowling  about 
when  it  has  grown  late,  and  he  will  see  a  light  still  burn- 
ing in  here  and  Ferdean — that  is  myself — sitting  here 
and  appearing  to  smoke,  and  he  will  say  to  himself:  '  It 
is  all  right;  this  Ferdean  is  a  devil  of  a  smoker!'  and  off 
he  will  go  to  his  bed.  Good." 

D'Artivan  spread  his  legs  apart  and  placed  his  hands 
in  the  pockets  of  his  coat.  These  pockets  were  behind, 
and  were  placed  close  together,  so  that  the  position  he 
took  threw  his  chest  out  bravely. 

"  So,"  he  went  on,  in  easy  conversation  with  himself, 
with  one  eye  closed  while  the  other  rested  unblinkingly 
upon  the  blood-red  face  at  the  other  end  of  the  room; 


102  ELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

"after  awhile  I  will  go  out,  lock  the  door  and  put  the 
key  in  my  pocket — that  is,  in  Ferdean's  pocket,  where  it 
belongs,  of  course,  leaving  the  lamp  burning  to  keep 
him  company.  Excellent;  I  have  forgotten  nothing, 
Ferdean,  my  friend!  Then,  any  one  whom  I  may  meet 
on  the  stairs,  or  in  this  devilishly  forlorn  street,  will 
mistake  me  for  Ferdean.  As  for  the  blood,  it  will  not 
be  observed  in  the  dark,  especially  as  Ferdean's  clothes 
are  brown;  and,  besides,  I  will  be  in  the  shadows  nearly 
the  whole  way  to  my  lodgings.  Come,  this  is  excel- 
lent!" 

By  the  time  that  D'Artivan  had  arrived  at  the  end  of 
his  soliloquy  his  spirits  had  risen  considerably,  and 
without  losing  any  more  time  he  set  to  work  to  carry 
out  his  ghoulish  purpose. 

In  spite  of  his  bravado,  however,  he  was  fearfully 
pale  while  engaged  in  stripping  the  body  of  Ferdean; 
and  in  withdrawing  the  dagger  from  the  body,  which 
was  rendered  necessary  in  order  to  remove  the  coat,  he 
was  subjected  to  the  most  frightful  of  all  ordeals.  As 
he  drew  the  knife  out  of  the  wound  a  fresh  stream  of 
blood  spouted  forth,  warm  and  red,  and  saturated  his 
hands  as  completely  as  though  they  had  been  dipped  in 
a  basin  of  it. 

It  was  several  minutes  before  D'Artivan  recovered 
from  this  shock,  the  worst,  indeed,  that  he  had  yet 
experienced;  and  his  hands,  from  which  he  shudderingly 
wiped  the  crimson  fluid,  shook  as  if  palsied  when  he 
resumed  his  lugubrious  task. 

At  last,  with  great  difficulty,  Ferdean  was  invested 
with  D'Artivan's  clothing  to  the  last  article.  Several 
letters  from  certain  nymps,  addressed  to  him  as 
"  Monsiur  Jean  Jourgot,"  were  left  in  the  pockets  to 
mislead  the  police.  Everything  else  he  transferred  to 
the  gaping  and  greasy  pockets  of  the  brown  "  raglan  " 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  103 

which  he  had  stripped  from  the  body.  Then  he  pro- 
ceeded to  clothe  himself  in  the  garments  of  the  dead 
man,  which  fitted  his  person  exactly,  and  elicited  from 
him  a  feeble  joke  or  two  about  the  advantage  that  might 
have  accrued  had  they  been  co-partners.  But  there  was 
one  thing,  of  the  utmost  importance,  too,  which  he  had 
almost  forgotten;  the  fresh  color  of  his  skin,  and  that 
cursed  scar,  which  the  pallor  of  his  face  just  now  made 
more  glaringly  vivid  than  ever,  must  be  changed  to  a 
tan.  Fortunately,  he  remembered  this;  but  he  had  no 
pigment  at  hand. 

Removing  a  small  pocket-glass  from  a  pouch  in  Fer- 
dean's  waistcoat,  he  stared  into  it  for  some  moments, 
perplexed  and  anxious. 

"  Well,  come,"  he  mumbled  to  himself ;"  how  can  I 
stain  my  face  and  hands  so  as  to  make  them  resemble 
the  money  changer's?  Peste,  his  skin  was  like  a  mum- 
my's in  color,  all  copper  and  black  variegation.  What 
the  devil  shall  I  do  with  mine  ? " 

The  dilemma  was  a  serious  one;  but,  as  if  the  demon 
whose  aid  he  had  just  invoked  had  come  to  his  assist- 
ance on  the  instant,  he  started  suddenly,  made  a  violent 
gesture  of  dissent  and  turned  still  whiter  as  he 
exclaimed,  hoarsely: 

"  My  God!  it  is  too  horrible." 

But,  recovering  himself  after  an  effort: 

"Yes,"  he  muttered,  desperately,  "it  must  be  done. 
Mon  Dieu!  yes.  And,  after  all,  he  is  dead;  and,  as  for 
myself,  morbleu,  I  shall  be  soon  like  him  if  I  hesitate  or 
stay  in  this  den  much  longer. 

Then,  what  this  man  did  was  this:  He  took  from 
the  pocket  of  his  coat  a  small  knife,  with  which  he  cut 
off  a  thin  piece  cf  wood  from  the  side  of  the  bedstead. 
Lighting  this  by  the  flame  of  the  lamp,  he  allowed  it  to 
burn  until  it  was  charred  at  the  end.  Then,  dipping 


104  HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR. 

this  charred  end  in  the  clotted  blood  on  the  floor,  he 
deliberately  smeared  the  horrible  compound  over  his 
face;  after  which  he  carefully  and  lightly  wiped  off  the 
surface  with  his  handkerchief.  After  two  or  three  times 
resorting  to  his  pocket-mirror,  he  became  satisfied  that 
he  had  imitated  Ferdean's  mahogany  complexion  sur- 
prisingly well;  thereupon,  he  began  to  treat  his  hands 
and  wrists,  his  ears,  throat  and  neck  to  the  same  sicken- 
ing process.  This  finished,  he  once  more  surveyed  him- 
self, and  exclaimed,  with  horrid  complacency: 

"  Saints  and  devils!  If  I  saw  myself  in  the  pool  of 
Narcissus,  I  should  believe  it  was  Ferdean  himself." 

This  astonishing  transformation  now  being  complete, 
D'Artivan  next  lifted  the  cot,  and  pushed  it  forward 
until  it  rested  directly  over  the  corpse  of  Ferdean,  hid- 
ing also  the  pool  of  blood  on  the  floor.  As  he  turned 
away,  he  saw  a  small  ebony  box,  like  an  antique  coffer, 
and  bound  with  brass,  laying  on  the  spot  from  which  he 
had  just  removed  the  bed.  D'Artivan  recognized  this 
box  instantly;  and  with  a  cry  expressive  of  greed  and 
exultation,  he  sprang  toward  it,  seized  it  in  his  hands, 
and  carried  it  to  the  lamp  for  closer  inspection.  Plung- 
ing his  hand  into  one  of  Ferdean's  pockets,  with  nervous 
haste  he  drew  therefrom  a  bunch  of  keys,  with  one  of 
which  he  unlocked  the  casket. 

D'Artivan  had  seen  this  box  several  times  before.  He 
had  borrowed  money  from  Ferdean  a  number  of  times, 
and  the  money  had  always  come  from  this  repository. 
And  now  it  was  his.  No  more  drawing  of  notes,  no  more 
security  on  his  patrimony,  no  more  usury.  He  was 
about  to  get  back  all  the  interest  he  had  paid  the  Arab, 
and  all  the  Arab's  capital  with  it.  It  was  excellent,  it 
was  superb  !  Perhaps  he  should  find  sundry  notes  and 
mortgages  he  had  given  the  money-changer,  in  this  won- 
derful casket,  under  the  carved  lid  which  he  was  going 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  105 

to  open  immediately.  He  held  it  before  him,  balancing 
it  in  his  eager  fingers,  and  murmured  : 

"  Pardieu,  it  is  delightfully  heavy  !  " 

In  waiting  now  to  examine  its  contents,  part  at  least 
of  which  he  already  knew  or  guessed  at,  the  Gascon  com- 
mitted a  serious  imprudence  ;  and  he  was  indulging  his 
curiosity  at  a  price  he  little  suspected.  Of  course  he 
was  aware  that  he  was  in  imminent  danger  of  being  dis- 
covered, as  he  had  already  reminded  himself  a  dozen 
times  within  the  hour  ;  but  his  cupidity  was  almost  as 
great  as  his  fear  ;  and  he  could  not  resist  the  temptation 
to  peep  at  the  treasures  he  had  stolen  without  compunc- 
tion from  the  dead. 

The  fact  is  that  his  cry  of  horror,  uttered  when  he 
turned  Ferdean  over  on  his  back,  had  penetrated 
through  the  chinks  and  crannies  of  the  walls  and  door, 
and  reached  the  sharp  eats  of  the  old  concierge  ;  and 
this  personage,  an  adept  at  espionage,  as  these  gentry 
invariably  are,  now  stood  outside  of  Ferdean's  door, 
with  his  eye  glued  to  the  large  keyhole.  He  saw 
D'Artivan's  back,  saw  him  rummaging  the  treasure-box 
which  he  had  often  seen,  and  formed  some  conclusions 
that  will  shortly  appear,  as  he  watched  the  ghoul's  oper- 
ations with  a  gloating  look. 

The  box  contained  several  bags  filled  with  louis 
d'ors  ;  but,  much  to  D'Artivan's  annoyance,  neither  his 
own  notes  nor  the  notes  of  anyone  else  were  there. 

"Never  mind,  he  muttered,  resignedly;  "perhaps 
they  will  never  turn  up." 

Without  expecting  to  find  anything  further,  he 
absently  lifted  the  bags  out,  one  by  one,  and  as  he 
removed  the  last,  his  hand  touched  a  small  morocco  box 
which  nearly  covered  the  bottom  of  the  casket.  This 
he  seized  with  renewed  curiosity  and  proceeded  to  open. 
To  his  amazement  and  delight,  it  was  tightly  packed 


I06  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

with  precious  stones,  many  of  them  of  large  dimensions, 
and  without  settings.  The  most  of  these  gems  were 
diamonds,  and  of  the  first  quality.  To  D'Artivan's  eyes 
here  was  a  veritable  mine,  a  fortune,  and  (thus  he  rea- 
soned) it  was  properly  his  own,  since  Ferdean  had  left 
no  visible  heirs  and  no  administrator  or  executor.  For 
several  minutes  he  feasted  his  eyes  upon  the  glittering 
jewels,  dazzled  and  speechless.  Then  he  gave  way  to  a 
paroxysm  almost  as  fierce  as  that  in  which  he  indulged 
on  the  night  of  the  duel ;  but  this  was  a  paroxysm  of 

j°y- 

A  stealthy  noise  outside  in  the  corridor  now  finally 
restored  him  to  his  senses  ;  and  hastily  replacing  the 
contents  of  the  box,  he  closed  and  locked  it,  and  placed 
it  under  the  bed,  at  the  side  of  its  dead  owner.  Then, 
after  putting  the  overturned  table  upon  its  legs,  he  cau- 
tiously opened  the  door  and,  seating  himself  in  the 
leathern-covered  chair,  with  the  unlucky  pipe  in  his 
mouth,  and  his  back  toward  the  door,  he  assumed  the 
peculiar,  drooping  position  in  which  he  had  so  often 
found  Ferdean,  and  waited  for  developments. 

Scarcely  five  minutes  had  elapsed,  when  a  slow  and 
shuffling  step  approached  the  entrance  and  halted  there. 
D'Artivan's  heart  leaped  into  his  throat,  but  he  remained 
motionless.  Then  a  gruff  voice  accosted  him: 

"Good  night,  Monsieur  Ferdean;  have  you  taken 
your  little  walk  yet  ?" 

"Aha!"  thought  the  false  Ferdean;  "this  is  fortu- 
nate, upon  my  word.  Ferdean  was  to  take  a  little  walk 
to-night,  it  seems;  perhaps  it  is  his  habit  to  do  so.  Well, 
pardieu!  I  will  take  it  for  him,  since  he  is  de  trop." 

Then,  subduing  his  voice  to  the  tones  and  accents 
of  the  real  Ferdean,  he  replied: 

"No;  but  I  am  going  out  directly." 

"  Mon  Dieu!"  grumbled  the  concierge;  "you  always 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  107 

require  me  to  sit  outside  of  your  door  until  you  return; 
and  you  do  not  go  out  so  late  before." 

This  did  not  sound  so  well  to  D'Artivan;  on  the  con- 
trary, it  somewhat  disconcerted  him.  But  he  answered, 
in  the  same  voice  as  before: 

"Go  to  bed." 

"  How?"  cried  the  concierge,  raising  his  harsh  voice, 
as  if  indignant  at  this  unceremonious  dismissal.  "Do 
you  not  wish,  then,  to  pay  the  ten  sous  to-night  ?  " 

D'Artivan  was  becoming  alarmed.  Every  time  he 
spoke  he  was  in  danger  of  being  discovered  to  this 
wretch  of  a  concierge.  Besides,  a  visitor,  even  at  this 
hour,  was  at  least  possible. 

"Curse  the  rascal,"  he  muttered,  between  his  teeth. 
But  he  said  aloud: 

"  Go,  go,  you  shall  have  your  ten  sous  all  the  same, 
to-morrow." 

"Oh,  if  that  is  the  same  thing  to  you,  certainly. 
Good-night,  Monsieur  Ferdean."  And  after  peering 
curiously  into  the  chamber  at  the  dismantled  bed,  the 
concierge  shambled  away. 

D'Artivan  waited  until  all  was  quiet;  then,  stealthily 
rising,  he  crept  to  the  bed,  and  without  looking  under 
it  groped  his  hand  for  the  box.  As  he  drew  it  from  its 
hiding  place, something  soft  moved  quicklyover  his  hand. 

With  a  shriek  of  terror,  but  still  clutching  the  casket, 
he  sprang  back  from  the  cot,  rushed  to  the  door,  and, 
more  than  half  mad  with  a  nameless  fear,  succeeded  in 
locKing  it,  thrust  the  key  in  his  pocket,  and  fled  down 
the  rickety  stairway. 

As  he  emerged  into  the  street,  which  was  now  as 
dark  as  the  mouth  of  a  cavern,  his  arm  was  suddenly 
clutched  by  a  bony  hand,  and  a  rasping  voice  whis- 
pered in  his  ear: 

"  My  ten  sous,  Monsieur  Ferdean — and  ten  louis  for 
waiting!  " 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  CONCIERGE'S  STORY. 

In  those  terrible  years  of  1789-93  the  self-constituted 
authorities  who  had  usurped  the  legitimate  functions  of 
the  monarchy,  "  in  order  to  restore  peace  to  France  and 
prosperity  to  the  nation,"  were  not  only  powerless  to 
prevent,  but  were  willing  to  encourage,  the  crimes  com- 
mitted by  "the  people,"  who  were  their  real  supporters  ; 
and  by  permitting  them  to  prey  upon  each  other  they 
found  excuses  for  the  terrible  crimes  and  excesses  of 
which  they  themselves  were  constantly  guilty. 

The  supposed  murder  of  an  unknown  man,  evidently 
an  aristocrat  from  his  attire,  by  the  money-changer 
(who  was  doubtless  attacked  for  the  purpose  of  robbery) 
did  not  much  disturb  the  neigborhood,  or  elicit  much 
attention  from  the  public.  On  the  night  of  the  catas- 
trophe, a  gendarme,  passing  by  the  tenement  where 
Ferdean  lodged,  had  found  the  concierge  lying  in  the 
open  doorway,  insensible  from  a  severe  blow  he  had  re- 
ceived in  the  temple  from  some  hard  instrument,  and 
was  carried  up  to  his  attic.  The  police  were  notified 
some  hours  later,  and  an  officer  was  sent  to  take  the  con- 
cierge's statement.  He  told  the  following  story  : 

He  had  gone  down  to  the  street  entrance  at  ten 
o'clock,  previous  to  closing  the  house  for  the  night,  and 
while  standing  there  Ferdean,  the  foreigner  who  rented 
the  rear  room  in  the  fourth  story,  came  running  down 
the  stairs  at  an  astonishing  rate  of  speed,  with  something 
heavy  in  his  hand.  Thinking  that  the  house  was  on  fire, 
or  that  something  dreadful  was  the  matter  with  the 

108 


HELENE   SA1NTE    MAUR.  IOQ 

/odger,  he,  the  concierge,  had  called  to  him  to  stop  and 
explain,  and  had  caught  hold  of  his  coat  to  detain  him 
for  the  moment,  when  the  "miserable"  had  whirled 
around,  without  a  word  to  him,  and  struck  him  a  terrible 
blow  on  the  head  with  the  thing  he  carried  in  his  hand, 
and  he  knew  no  more  until  he  found  himself  in  his  own 

bed." 

The  concierge  declared  that  he  had  not  yet  visited 
the  room  of  Ferdean,  being  yet  too  weak  to  do  so  ;  and 
now  volunteered  to  go  with  the  officer  and  make  an 
examination  of  the  premises. 

The  dead  body  was  found  under  the  bed,  but  the 
face  was  horribly  mutilated  by  an  enormous  rat  which 
fled  to  its  hole  when  the  horror-stricken  pair  pulled  the 
cot  away.  The  rat  had  no  doubt  grown  fat  upon  Fer- 
dean's  crumbs,  but  this  had  not  prevented  it  from  also 
preying  upon  Ferdean's  body  ;  and,  thanks  toils  ravages 
and  the  blood-dye  which  clung  there,  the  face  of  the 
corpse  was  absolutely  unrecognizable.  The  concierge, 
however,  insisted  that  it  was  not  the  money-changer, 
but  a  young  man  who  had  called  to  see  him  before  dark, 
on  business  that  had  often  brought  him  there  before. 

Nothing  more  was  elicited  from  the  concierge  of  any 
special  importance;  and  nothing  whatever  was  discov- 
ered in  the  way  of  valuables.  Evidently,  Ferdean  had 
decamped,  taking  his  portables  with  him.  Upon  search- 
ing the  pockets  of  the  dead  man,  several  letters  from 
women  were  found,  addressed  to  a  fictitious  name  which 
D'Artivan  had  given  them;  and  these,  together  with  the 
strange  clothing  on  the  body,  the  presence  of  the  bloody 
dagger — known  by  the  concierge  to  have  belonged  to 
Ferdean — as  well  as  the  other  significant  circumstances 
which  we  have  already  recounted,  were  considered  suf- 
ficiently corroborative  to  justify  the  officer's  report  at 
the  Prefecture  to  the  effect  that  Ferdean  had  committed 


110  HELKNE   SAINTE    MAUR. 

the  murder,  etc.,  and  had  fled  from  the  scene  of  the 
crime  with  all  his  valuables,  after  knocking  down  the 
concierge,  who  had  attempted  to  question  him  about 
his  extraordinary  haste. 

Formalities  were  hastily  gone  through  with  at  the 
morgue,  and  at  the  Prefect's,  and  the ''unknown  "  was 
buried  out  of  sight  and  forgotten — except  by  two  or 
three  persons,  from  whom  we  shall  hear  again. 

Meanwhile,  D'Artivan,  who  had  recognized  the  cun- 
ning concierge  at  the  door,  and  in  his  desperation  had 
launched  the  corner  of  the  box  at  the  latter'shead,  with 
excellent  effect, -as  we  have  seen,  reached  his  lodgings 
without  attracting  any  notice  from  wayfarers  or  police- 
men. There  he  remained  for  a  few  days,  and  then 
transferred  his  domicil  to  the  northwestern  portion  of 
the  city.  He  had  found  a  little  house  in  the  Faubourg 
St.  Honore,  the  owner  of  which  had  fled  to  England  to 
save  his  head  from  Robespierre's  vengeance.  Now,  this 
unfortunate  refugee  was  no  other  than  the  Marquis  of 

B , whose  presence  among  the  living  we  shall  presently 

explain.  He  had  left  this  house,  the  situation  of  which 
was  extremely  secluded,  in  the  charge  of  a  faithful  ser- 
vant, his  old  valet,  Barbaroux,  who  lived  in  it  entirely 
alone — or  had  been  doing  so  until  about  a  fortnight  be- 
fore the  incident  of  Ferdean's  death;  an  incident,  by  the 
way,  by  no  means  unimportant  to  the  truthful  history 
of  the  lives  we  are  following  in  these  eventful  chapters. 

The  fact  is,  the  Marquis  had  secretly  returned  to 
Paris.  In  a  safe  disguise,  he  had  gone  to  this  house 
some  weeks  before  the  events  we  are  about  to  describe, 
was  received  by  Barbaroux  with  joyful  effusiveness,  and 
had  then  informed  his' servant  that  he  should  again  be 
absent  for  perhaps  a  week,  and  would  then  return  to 
remain  in  concealment  there  until  the  insurgents  were 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  Ill 

reduced    to   subjection,    and    peace    restored    to    Paris. 
Then  he  had  disappeared. 

The  Marquis  went,  at  the  risk  of  his  head,  on  a  mis- 
sion of  revenge.  His  destination  was  Caen,  in  the 
province  of  Normandy,  where  the  supporters  of  the 
king  were  numerous.  From  there  he  dispatched  a 
message  to  Sir  Philip  Belmore,  informing  him  that  he 
desired  another  meeting  with  him,  and  that,  since  he 
could  not  come  to  Paris  without  falling  into  the  hands 
of  Robespierre  and  his  friends,  he  hoped  his  mortal 
enemy,  Sir  Philip,  would  accord  him  a  meeting  either 
in  Normandy  or  Maine,  etc. 

The  reply  which  the  vindictive  nobleman  received 
from  the  baronet  astounded  no  less  than  it  enraged  him. 
It  ran  thus  : 

"You  demand  what  you  are  pleased  to  call  'satisfac- 
tion' from  me,  for  the  second  time.  As  you  had  no 
excuse  for  calling  me  out  in  the  first  place,  so  you  have 
none  now  for  calling  me  to  account  for  defeating  you. 
I  had  your  life  a  score  of  times  on  the  point  of  my 
sword,  and  refused  to  take  it.  I  determined,  rather  than 
have  your  blood  on  my  hands,  to  effectually  prevent 
you  from  continuing  your  persecution  of  a  lady  whom 
you  had  threatened  because  she  refused  your  unwel- 
come addresses.  I  will  now  inform  you  that  if  you 
insist  on  my  meeting  you  again,  I  will  go  to  Elbeuf  for 
that  purpose;  but  I  also  warn  you  that,  while  I  shall  not 
kill  you,  I  shall  do  worse.  I  cut  off  your  nose  with  your 
own  sword  in  the  duel  at  Boulogne;  in  the  duel  at 
Elbeuf  I  shall  cut  off  your  ears." 

Upon  receiving  this  fearful  epistle,  the  Marquis  was 
delirious  with  rage.  But  he  did  not  "  insist "  after  that; 
on  the  contrary,  he  returned  to  the  charming  little  house 
in  the  aristocratic  Faubourg,  and  sat  down  to  plot 


112  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

against  his  enemy  from  behind  a  position  which  ensured 
the  safety  of  his  ears. 

Since  his  duel  with  Sir  Philip  Belmore,  the  Marquis 
had  become  a  monomaniac.  Night  and  day  he  brooded 
over  his  hideous  disfigurement.  Unskillful  treatment 
had  allowed  suppuration  to  follow,  then  there  was  a 
farther  ravage — caries  of  the  bone  ;  and,  whether  from  ac- 
cidental inoculation  or  neglect,  the  disease  in  his  nose 
was  fpund  or  believed  to  be  incurable,  and  at  all  events 
he  found  it  impossible  to  wear  an  artificial  nose.  He 
was  therefore  compelled  to  wear  merely  an  ugly  green 
flap  over  that  portion  of  his  face,  except  when  for  a  few 
minutes  in  his  flying  passages  from  one  refuge  to  an- 
other he  had  to  endure  the  attachment,  and  when  the 
flap  was  removed  his  appearance  was  frightful. 

The  sight  of  his  own  features,  therefore,  was  to  the 
Marquis  a  constant  reminder  that  he  owed  his  mutila- 
tion to  the  Englishman  who  was  admitted  familiarly  into 
the  presence  of  the  woman  whom  he  believed  he  loved 
to  madness,  but  who,  after  his  quarrel  with  the  baronet 
and  his  terrible  humiliation  almost  under  the  eyes  of  her 
to  whom  he  had  thought  to  pose  as  a  Hector,  had 
spurned  and  scorned  him.  Hopeless  jealousy,  hatred  of 
his  rival,  and  the  burning  desire  to  revenge  himself  not 
only  upon  Sir  Philip  and  Helene,  but  upon  all  those  who 
were  associated  with  these  two  at  the  time  of  his  unfor- 
tunate encounter,  had  brought  him  back  to  Paris  at  the 
very  time  that  hundreds  of  the  noblesse  were  turning 
their  faces  from  it.  These  vindictive  feelings  had  grown 
in  strength  and  fierceness,  until  they  had  induced  a  spe- 
cies of  insanity.  In  short,  the  Marquis  of  B had 

come  to  Paris  with  the  inexorable  purpose  of  extermi- 
nating every  one  of  the  party  who  had  caused,  assisted 
in,  or  witnessed  his  punishment  and  disgrace  at  Bou- 
logne. 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  113 

Soon  after  he  had  thus  settled  himself  in  Paris,  he 
set  about  procuring  an  instrument  of  his  systematic  ven- 
geance. He  wanted  a  tool,  and  a  capable  one;  and  by 
capability  he  meant  cunning,  intelligence,  cupidity, 
indifference  to  misfortune,  pain  and  death — to  others. 

Accident  brought  exactly  such  a  person  to  his  very 
door,  as  we  shall  presently  see. 

One  evening  before  dusk,  as  Barbaroux  stood  inside 
the  open  wicket  in  front  of  the  villa,  mildly  contemplat- 
ing the  few  passers-by,  his  attention  was  drawn  to  a 
light  chaise  which  had  stopped  immediately  in  front  of 
the  garden  entrance. 

The  occupant  of  the  chaise,  a  richly  but  rather  show- 
ily dressed  man  of  somewhat  sinister  appearance,  pos- 
sibly owing  to  a  vivid  and  ugly  scar  across  his  left 
cheek,  was  leaning  out  of  the  vehicle  and  attentively 
examining  the  premises. 

This  unusual  inspection  alarmed  Barbaroux,  who 
was  naturally  at  alTtimes  alert,  on  his  master's  account, 
for  whatever  might  occur  at  all  suspicious  in  its  appear- 
ance in  the  vicinity.  He  therefore  began  to  scrutinize 
the  stranger  furtively,  asking  himself  if  it  were  possible 
this  man  could  be  a  spy?  But  no,  that  was  not  proba- 
ble; he  was  dressed  like  a  cavalier,  and  the  "  republicans  " 
went  either  shabbily  dressed  or  attired  with  extreme 
simplicity.  Yes,  assuredly,  this  was  a  man  of  fashion — 
nothing  more  harmful  than  that.  And  yet — 

Barbaroux's  reflections,  which  were  shrewd  in  the 
main,  were  interrupted  at  this  juncture. 

"My  good  fellow,"  said  the  man  in  the  chaise,  in  a 
patronizing  tone,  "  do  you  live  here  ?  " 

Barbaroux,  while  secretly  incensed  by  the  manner  of 
the  stranger,  was  at  the  same  time  re-assured  by  it. 
Detectives,  gens  d'armes,  and  spies,  did  not  assume  such 
supercilious  airs.  He  answered,  somewhat  reservedly: 


114  HELEXE    SAINTE  MAUR. 

"  Certainly,  Monsieur ;  otherwise  I  should  not  be 
making  myself  so  much  at  home." 

"  Oh,"  ejaculated  the  man,  with  an  amused  laugh. 
Then,  a  little  less  flippantly  : 

"  Well,  then,  I  presume  you  are  taking  care  of  the 

place  for  the  Marquis  of  B ,  since  his — hem — health 

requires  him  to  be  absent  fora — an  indefinite  time,  ch  ? " 

This  speech  sounded  suspicious  to  Barbaroux,  and 
his  uneasiness  began  to  return,  lie  made  no  reply,  but 
fixed  his  gray  eyes  on  the  stranger  with  a  searching 
expression  which  the  latter  mistook,  for  he  exclaimed, 
with  a  repetition  of  his  unpleasant  laugh  : 

"Oh,  you  need  not  say  to  yourself — 'this  is  an 
inquisitive  person,  who  meddles  with  other  people's  bus- 
iness ! '  Pardieu,  my  friend,  I  am  not  that  kind.  *I  have 
business  of  my  own,  do  you  see?  And  as  for  those 
damned  sans  culottes,  those  rapscallions  who  are  razing 
Paris — well,  do  you  understand,  a  gentleman  has  no 
longer  an  income,  thanks  to  them,  since  the  butchers 
have  gone  to  killing  in  the  provinces.  Very  well,  then, 
to  waste  no  more  time  about  it,  my  business  here  is  to 
ascertain  if  this  house — which  is  very  pretty,  but  which 
the  Marquis  found  too  lonesome,  perhaps,  although, 
presto,  it  exactly  suits  my  taste  in  that  respect — can  be 
leased  to  a  gentleman  of  means  and  refinement  for,  say 
one  year." 

Barbaroux,  much  relieved  by  this  explanation, 
gravely  shook  his  head. 

"  I  have  had  no  instructions  to  let  the  place,  Mon- 
sieur," he  said,  politely. 

The  stranger  looked  disappointed.  After  reflecting 
a  moment,  he  asked: 

"Well,  at  all  events.,  can  you  not  write  to  the  Mar- 
quis, and  ask  his  permission  to  do  so?  It  is  I  who  want 
the  lease.  I  am  pleased  with  tkfi  locality,  and  I  think 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  11$ 

the  house  is  just  what  I  require,  as  I  am  unmarried. 
And  besides,  if  you  succeed  in  inducing  the  Marquis  to 
let  it  to  me,  I  will  retain  you  in  it,  since  I  like  your 
looks,  and  would  need  no  recommendations  from  you." 

"Certainly,  Monsieur,  I  can  do  that,  I  suppose," 
assented  the  valet. 

"Ah,  thank  you.  Get  me  a  pen  and  paper,  then, 
and  I  will  write  my  name  and  address  on  it,  so  that  you 
may  notify  me  when  you  hear  from  your  master." 

Every  word  of  this  conversation  was  overheard  by 
the  Marquis  himself,  from  his  "little  place  of  observa- 
tion "  behind  the  jalousie  of  the  parlor  window,  the  sash 
of  which  he  had  softly  raised  for  the  purpose.  The 
moment  that  Barbaroux  entered  the  house,  therefore,  to 
get  the  writing  materials,  his  master  beckoned  him  into 
a  rear  apartment,  and  closing  the  door: 

"Listen.  That  is  the  very  man  I  want,"  said  he,  in 
an  unusually  animated  tone.  "  Get  his  name  and  resi- 
dence in  full,  and  tell  him  that  you  will  do  your  best  to 
secure  the  place  for  him  on  his  own  conditions — that  he 
retains  you  in  his  service.  Say,  indifferently,  that  the 
terms  will  no  doubt  be  very  moderate,  since  the  Mar- 
quis does  not  wish  to  sell  the  property,  but  simply  to 
keep  it  occupied  during  his  absence  from  Paris.  Tell 
him,  also,  that  as  soon  as  you  get  a  reply  from  London, 
which  will  be  no  longer  than  four  days  hence,  you  will 
bring  my  written  answer  to  him." 

Barbaroux,  who  was  a  servant  to  the  old  regime, was 
too  well  trained  to  exhibit  any  of  the  surprise  he  felt 
upon  receiving  this  singular  order  ;  but  went  out  of  the 
room  to  execute  it  with  the  same  impassive  countenance 
with  which  he  had  entered.  When  he  returned  a  fc\v 
minutes  afterward,  he  found  the  Marquis  walking  the 
floor  rapidly,  and  smiling  in  a  most  peculiar  manner. 

"Aha,  my  good  Barbaroux,"  said   he,  in  so  cheerlul 


Il6  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

a  tone  that  the  old  servant  stared  at  him  this  time  with 
open  and  pleased  surprise ;  his  master  never  since 
his  misfortune  having  spoken  in  any  other  than  a 
morose  voice  ;  "  this  shall  be  called  a  white  day.  But 
you  do  not  understand,  I  see.  Well,  I  will  tell  you 
this  much  now  ;  I  saw  this — ah  (reading  the  address 
eagerly)  D'Artivan,  and  heard  all  he  said,  while 
you  conversed  with  him.  I  understand  the  fellow's 
physiognomy,  and  I  am  sure  he  is  a  scoundrel. 
Well,  I  want  a  scoundrel  to  live  here,  here  where  I 
can  see  him  whenever  I  choose,  without  exposing  myself. 
In  four  days,  at  this  hour,  you  will  carry  to  him  my 
answer,  which  will  be  dated  from  London,  of  course, 
and  addressed  to  you,  authorizing  you  to  let  the  place 
to  him,  provided  he  retains  you  here  in  his  service  in 
the  same  capacity  in  which  you  served  me.  My  letter, 
which  I  will  give  to  you  to  read  to-morrow,  will  tell  you 
to  make  such  arrangements  with  the  gentleman  as  you 
may  deem  proper,  in  the  leasing  of  the  house.  And  you 
will  then  tell  him  that  he  can  take  possession  at  once." 

One  week  later,  the  pretty  villa  in  the  Faubourg  St. 
Honore  had  a  new  master;  so  did  Barbaroux.  The 

Marquis  of  B had  secured  a  tenant  who  was  ere 

long  to  be  something  more  to  him,  as  we  are  speedily  to 
learn. . 

On  the  very  next  day  this  eccentric  landlord  began 
to  look  up  the  antecedents  of  Monsieur  Victor  D.'Arti- 
van.  And  as  he  possessed  both  money  and  brains, 
which  together  constitute  the  Archimedean  lever  of 
which  liberal-minded  people  are  so  skeptical,  the  Mar- 
quis was  not  long  in  making  some  astonishing  discov- 
eries concerning  that  debonaire  ^gentleman  which 
eventually  placed  the  latter  absolutely  in  his  power,  and 
afforded  ample  proof  of  the  nobleman's  sagacity. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

1)'  ARTIVAN  AT  THE  VILLA. 

Crime  is  often  the  dupe  of  its  own  arts.  At  all 
events  this  was  the  case  with  D'Artivan.  He  had  been 
cunning,  and  he  now  endeavored  to  be  cautious.  We 
shall  see  how  it  availed  him. 

When  he  appeared  at  the  door  of  the  villa  with  his 
luggage,  he  left  on  the  seat  rf  the  carriage  a   small  sil- 
ver-handled casket,  covered   with  blue  velvet.     He  had* 
already  entered-the  door,  and    the  carriage  was  driving 
off,  when  he  suddenly  recollected. 

"  My  God!  "  he  exclaimed,  in  accents  of  terror,  as  he 
turned  to  rush  out  of  the  house,  "  my  box,  my  box! 
Stop  the  chaise,  stop  it,  I  say!  Devils  of  Tophet,  ho — 
ho,  there.  Curse  you,  stop!" 

Ilatless,  excited  to  the  utmost  pitch,  panting  and 
pale,  the  terrified  adventurer,  forgetting  decorum,  and 
dropping  his  grand  airs  as  he  would  have  flung  a  mask 
aside,  rushed,  vociferating  and  gesticulating  down  the 
staid  avenue,  in  angry  and  desperate  pursuit  of  the 
vehicle  which  was  bearing  his  stolen  treasure,  and,  per- 
haps, the  evidence  of  his  crime,  straight  toward  the  Pont 
Neuf. 

It  was  not  until  he  had  raced  nearly  to  the  Seine  that 
he  overtook  the  driver,  who  was  much  astonished  to 
hear  his  pompous  fare  yelling  hoarsely  behind  him,  and 
to  see  him  transformed  from  a  fine  gentleman  into  the 
'lance  of  a  drunken  roysterer.  D'Artivan  lost  no 
time  in  scrambling  into  the  chaise,  and  was  driven  back 

117 


Il8  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR'. 

to  the  villa  hugging  his   precious  casket  with    nervous 
tenacity. 

Barbaroux,  who  had  followed  him  as  far  as  the  pave- 
ment when  he  took  flight,  had'  remained  there  as  if 
dumbfounded,  which  in  truth  he  was;  and  had  nearly 
convinced  himself  that  the  new  tenant  had  suddenly 
gone  mad,  when  the  chaise  again  whirled  up  to  the  gate 
and  deposited  the  towsled  fare  for  the  second  time  on 
the  pavement. 

It  was  Ferdean's  box — in  disguise — which  the  Gascon 
had  in  his  hands.  Thinking  it  a  convenient  receptacle 
for  the  jewels  (which  he  could  only  dispose  of,  with  any 
degree  of  prudence,  in  small  lots  and  at  intervals),  he 
'had  decided  to  preserve  it,  especially  as  it  was  an 
antique.  But,  in  order  that  if  seen  in  his  possession  by 
any  one  who  might  recognize  it  as  Ferdean's,  he  had 
bought  some  velvet  cloth  and  an  adjustable  silver 
handle,  and  with  these  had  completely  changed  its  out- 
side appearance.  The  inside  he  had  not  altered;  and 
thus,  while  drawing  attention  to  it  by  its  showy  cover- 
ing, he  neglected,  at  the  same  time,  to  remove  or  cover 
up  the  tell-tale  inscription  on  the  ebony  inside.  This 
inscription  was  in  Arabic,  a  language  which  D'Artivan 
did  not  understand;  and,  as  he  felt  no  curiosity  about 
it,  he  gave  it  no  thought  whatever. 

Strange  as  it  may  appear,  any  honest  soothsayer 
would  have  recommended  Monsieur  D'Artivan,  after 
reading  his  horoscope,  to  neglect  the  study  of  any  other 
language  rather  than  Arabic.  But  then  Monsieur  would 
not  have  believed  it. 

As  he  entered  the  house  this  time,  Barbaroux,  who 
had  quietly  preceded  him  into  the  vestibule,  politely  took 
the. box  out  of  his  hand,  intending  to  carry  it  up  to  his 
chamber  for  him.  But  D'Artivan  hastily  plucked  it  out 
of  the-valet's  fingers,  turning  somewhat  red  in  the  face 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  1 19 

as  he  did  so,  and  hurried  to  his  room,  without  uttering 
a  word. 

That  night  Barbaroux,  while  assisting  the  Marquis 
to  undress,  told  him  of  the  affair  of  the  casket. 

The  Marquis  was  interested,  and  asked  a  number  of 
questions.  He  was  an  astute  person;  he  was  fond  of 
studying  character,  and  prided  himself  on  his  accurate 
judgment  of  physiognomy.  He  had  studied  the  Gas- 
con's face  from  his  retreat  behind  the  Venetian  blind  in 
the  parlor,  and  had  said  to  Barbaroux  :  "  The  fellow  is 
a  scoundrel."  Therefore,  he  was  predisposed  to  look 
with  suspicion  on  his  tenant's  peculiar  conduct ;  and  his 
conclusion  now  was  that  the  casket  had  a  history,  or  at 
least  contained  a  secret.  In  both  these  surmises  the 
Marquis  was  right. 

At  the  end  of  his  reflections,  he  said  to  the  valet 

"When  Monsieur  goes  out  to-morrow  morning  for  his 
breakfast,  we  will  have  a  look  at  that  casket  of  which  he 
is  so  careful." 

Accordingly,  when  D'Artivan  started  out  of  the 
house  in  search  of  a  cafe,  Barbaroux  followed  him  with 
his  eyes  as  far  as  the  corner  of  the  boulevard,  and  saw 
him  turn  toward  the  quay  of  the  Tuilleries ;  then  he 
hastened  into  his  master's  chamber  to  inform  him  that 
the  way  was  clear  for  their  little  visit  of  inspection. 

D'Artivan  had  left  his  bed-room  in  disorder,  and 
numerous  garments  were  carelessly  tossed  here  and 
there  on  various  pieces  of  furniture.  But  after  a  careful 
search  of  the  room  they  had  not  found  the  box.  They 
sat  down  to  consider. 

"  It  must  be  in  that  chest,"  observed  Barbaroux, 
pointing  to  one  D'Artivan  had  brought,  and  which  had 
been  deposited  in  one  corner  of  the  bed-room. 

But  when  he  attempted  to  raise  the  lid,  he  discovered 
it  was  locked. 


120  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

"  Never  mind;"  he  remarked,  "  I  can  open  anything 
that  any  locksmith  can.  I  was  an  apprentice  to  that 
great  master  who  taught  the  King  himself  to  make  cab- 
inet locks  and  open  them  without  keys."  And  with  this 
excellent  recommendation  of  himself,  he  ran  out  of  the 
room,  returning  in  a  few  minutes  with  a  nail  and  some 
pieces  of  wire.  Getting  down  on  his  knees  before  the 
chest  with  the  air  of  an  expert  workman,  he  inserted  his 
wire,  felt  the  tumbrils,  poked  about  with  the  nail  and 
the  wire,  and  presently  raised  the  lid  of  the  chest.  The 
box  was  there,  snugly  cushioned  on  the  top  of  a  vari- 
colored dressing-gown. 

Fortunately,  thanks  to  the  unheard-of  carelessness 
of  its  possessor,  it  was  not  locked  ;  otherwise  the  valet's 
skill  would  have  been  subjected  to  a  very  severe  and 
probably  a  futile  test,  since  the  lock  was  of  oriental  and 
complicated  workmanship. 

The  Marquis  examined  the  jewels,  as  they  lay  spark- 
ling in  their  morocco  case,  with  some  curiosity  ;  but  his 
interest  was  centered  in  the  casket  itself ;  and  he  at  once 
directed  Barbaroux  to  remove  everything  from  it.  Then 
the  inscription  caught  his  eye. 

"  Aha,  I  thought  so  !  "  he  exclaimed,  triumphantly; 
"  we  are  about  to  arrive.  Fetch  me  a  pen  and  a  tablet." 

The  Marquis  knew  no  more  of  Arabic  than  did 
D'Artivan,  but  he  was  in  this  case  more  inquisitive.  So, 
when  the  tablet  was  brought  he  carefully  copied  the 
text  just  as  it  appeared.  Having  done  this,  Barbaroux 
replaced  everything  as  it  was  before,  and,  closing  the  lid 
of  the  chest,  the  two  worthies  left  the  apartment  and 
proceeded  to  that  of  the  Marquis. 

After  closing  the  door,  the  latter  said: 

"  You  will  take  this  copy  to  the  libraire  Bossuet,  and 
ask  him  to  decipher  it  and  give  you  the  translation  in 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  121 

writing.  Make  haste,  so  as  to  return  before  Monsieur 
what's  his  name." 

While  Barbaroux  was  off  attending  to  his  order, 
D'Artivan  returned  from  the  cafe  and  went  to  his  bed- 
room. In  a  few  minutes  the  Marquis,  who  was  in  his 
own  chamber,  heard  a  great  outcry,  then  a  door  violently 
opened,  and  D'Artivan's  voice  shouting: 

"  Hilloa,  I  say,  Barbaroosa,  where  the  devil  are  you? 
I  want  you  this  instant." 

The  Marquis  started  and  changed  color. 

"  Peste!  "  exclaimed  he,  under  his  breath;  "  we  came 
away  without  locking  the  chest !  However,"  he  added, 
with  an  expressive  shrug,  "  we  could  not  have  done  so 
with  only  a  nail  and  some  bits  of  wire.  Besides,  nothing 
has  been  taken  away,  and  he  can  not  accuse  Barbaroux  of 
theft.  It  is  quite  clear  to  me  that  this  man's  emotion 
proceeds  from  fright  as  well  as  anger.  Hear  how  he 
roars!  Well,  we  shall  see  if  we  have  had  our  trouble  for 
nothing,  when  Barbaroux  gets  back.  Devil  take  the 
fellow,  if  Barbaroux  does  not  come  quickly  he  will 
break  into  my  room;  and  in  that  case,  pardieu,  I  shall 
be  obliged  to  use  some  cold  discipline." 

In  truth,  as  the  Marquis  picked  up  his  sword  from  a 
chair  where  it  was  always  conveniently  at  hand,  it 
seemed  not  unlikely  that  he  would  presently  be  com- 
pelled to  use  it,  for  at  that  moment  the  irate  Gascon, 
who  had  rushed  through  the  corridor  vociferating 
loudly,  reached  the  nobleman's  door,  which  he  tried  to 
force  open. 

"Ah,  you  are  there,  you  rascal!  "  cried  he  in  a  fury. 
"Open,  then,  I  tell  you;  it  is  I,  your  master,  who  has 
found  you  out!  Your  master,  do  you  hear?  Ah,  sacre, 
yes,  who  will  give  you  his  boot,  you  prying  maladroit!" 

What  would  have  happened  if  D'Artivan  had  burst 
into  the  Marquis'  bedroom  we  can  only  surmise.  It  is 


122  HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR. 

certain  that  the  latter  was  not  more  than  six  feet  from 
the  door,  with  a  drawn  sword  in  his  hand,  and  a  threat- 
ening scowl  on  his  face,  ready  to  receive  the  besieger. 
But  at  that  critical  instant  Barbaroux  entered  the  house 
and,  hearing  the  uproar  above,  at  once  concluded  his 
master's  hiding-place  was  discovered,  and  with  a  groan 
of  anguish  hurried  up-stairs.  His  emotion  so  confused 
him,  in  fact,  that  before  he  was  aware  of  it  he  had 
rushed  into  the  hands  of  his  new  master,  who  immedi- 
ately clutched  him,  and  proceeded  to  administer  sundry 
rough  shakings  to  his  anatomy. 

We  must  say  that,  under  this  unexpected  and  decid- 
edly exasperating  treatment,  Barbaroux  displayed  a 
self-possession  and  readiness  that  admirably  fitted  him 
for  the  delicate  position  he  held  toward  his  prescribed 
master.  Relieved  to  find  that  the  latter  was  still  in 
safety,  he  began  to  comprehend  the  cause  of  the  new 
one's  wrath  and  excitement.  He  pretended  to  be 
Intensely  astonished  and  sorrowfully  indignant,  as  he 
drew  himself  out  of  reach  and  exclaimed,  with  an  inim- 
itable air  of  reproach: 

"  Monsieur,  do  you  not  find  the  house  to  be  all  that 
I  represented  to  you?  I  assure  Monsieur  that  it  is  not 
my  fault  if  Monsieur  is  displeased  with  the  arrange- 
ments, or  with  the  appointments,  since — " 

"Thousand  devils!  will  you  cease  your  clatter?" 
shouted  D'Artivan,  who  had  not  himself  ceased.  "  Now 
you  rascal,  listen  to  me.  Look  me.  in  the  eye,  scelerat, 
and  mind — I  am  watching  you!  Do  not  lie  to  me,  for 
I  shall  discover  it,  I  warn  you,  and  then,  sacre!  so  much 
the  worse  for  you.  Come,  are  you  going  to  speak  up?" 

Barbaroux  certainly  had  as  yet  found  no  opportunity 
to  "speak  up,"  until  his  excited  master  paused  over  this 
unexpected  question. 

"  I  beg  Monsieur's  pardon,"  He  now  began,  in  a  quiet 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  123 

and  respectful  tone,  "  if  I  confess  that  I  do  not  know  the 
cause  of  Monsieur's  anger.  If  Monsieur  is  offended 
because  I  went  out  during  his  absence,  I  would  like  to 
be  permitted  to  explain  that  I  have  a  sick  friend  in  the 
neighborhood,  who  is  very  poor  and  not  able  to  employ 
a  nurse;  and  I  went  to  see  if  he  was  in  want  of  any- 
thing. But  I  do  not  think  I  was  gone  more  than  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour." 

"Stop,  I  tell  you,  in  the  devil's  name!"  cried  the 
Gascon,  stamping  his  foot  in  desperation.  "  Morbleu, 
you  will  drown  me  with  words.  I  do  not  want  to  know 
anything  about  your  sick  people  ;  to  the  devil  or  Sal- 
petriere  with  them.  Tell  me  this  :  Why  did  you  enter 
my  bed-room,  which  you  did  not  put  in  order  because 
you  were  too  busy,  eh,  in  ransacking,  eh — I  wish  you  to 
tell  me  at  once,  do  you  hear?" 

Barbaroux  gazed  at  his  excited  patron  with  a  look 
of  the  most  profound  commiseration.  So  candid  and 
deliberate  was  his  manner,  that  D'Artivan's  excitement 
began  to  subside  ;  and  his  features  all  at  once  betrayed 
another  emotion — fear.  He  devoured  Barbaroux  with 
his  eyes,  as  the  latter  said,  impassively  : 

"  I  do  not  understand  Monsieur  at  all." 

"What,"  exclaimed  D'Artivan,  with  a  perceptible 
tremor  in  his  moderated  voice;  "did  you  not  go  into  my 
bed-room  while  I  was  absent  at  the  caf6,  and  open  my 
chest,  which  I  had  before  locked,  leaving  it  unlocked 
after  you  ?" 

The  valet's  face  assumed  an  expression  of  profound 
astonishment.  He,  however,  denied  vehemently  having 
done  anything  of  the  kind.  In  the  midst  of  his  protes- 
tation he  stopped  abruptly,  made  a  significant  gesture, 
and  said,  with  an  air  of  supreme  conviction  : 

"  Ah,  mon  Dieu,  I  understand  it  all  very  well.  Do 
you  not  know,  Monsieur,  that  the  spies  of  Robespierre 


124  HELENE    SA1NTE    MAUR. 

and  Danton  are  making  domiciliary  visits  at  the  houses 
of  all  those  who  are  'suspects?'  and  is  not  the  Marquis 
more  than  a  'suspect?'  Well,  the  wretches  have  been 
in  this  street  for  several  days.  Without  a  doubt  they 
have  been  watching  this  house ;  and  seeing  both  Mon- 
sieur and  myself  leave  it  within  the  hour,  one  of  them 
has  slipped  in  and  rummaged  the  premises.  Peste  ! 
Your  boxes  were  opened,  you  say?  Well,  that  is  not  at 
all  surprising;  they  are  as  expert  as  the  house-breakers, 
which  indeed  many  of  them  have  been,  and  do  not  mind 
bolts  and  bars  and — locks,  any  more  than  a  ghost." 

D'Artivan's  cheeks  resumed  their  natural  color,  as  he 
listened  to  this  very  reasonable  explanation.  He  held 
out  his  hand  to  Barbaroux. 

"  Forgive  me,  my  friend,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  that,  for 
him,  was  almost  amiable;  "without  doubt  it  is  as  you  say, 
it  is  those  prowling  agents  of  the  jacobins.  Well,  they 
carried  nothing  off ;  let  us  say  nothing  more  about  the 
matter;  but  do  not  go  out  again  in  my  absence;  it  is 
not  safe,  as  you  now  see." 

And  with  a  buoyant  step,  and  the  swaggering  gait 
which  he  had  so  laboriously  cultivated,  D'Artivan  re- 
turned to  his  room,  where  he  remained  only  long  enough 
to  attire  himself  in  a  plum-colored  costume,  for  a  drive 
in  the  Champs  Elysees,  and  then  left  the  house. 

Meanwhile  the  Marquis  had  been  waiting  impatiently 
in  his  own  apartment  for  Barbaroux'  return;  and  the 
moment  the  latter  entered  he  exclaimed: 

"You  have  been  gone  a  long  time;  well,  that  means 
that  you  have  succeeded  in  getting  what  I  required." 

Barbaroux  replied  by  giving  to  his  master  a  piece  of 
paper,  at  which  the  latter  had  scarcely  glanced  before 
he  exclaimed: 

"Aha,  did  I  not  tell  you  that  this  D'Artivan  is  a 
scoundrel?  Listen  to  this: 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  I2«J 

'"The  literal  translation  of  the  Arabic  text  you  were 
pleased  to  send  me  reads  thus:  Emil  Ferdean,  Jeweler 
and  Broker,  Smyrna.' 

"  Now  do  you  see,"  continued  the  Marquis,  triumph- 
antly, that  when  we  looked  at  the  ebony  box  we  found 
in  the  bottom  of  it  the  means  of  proving  the  fellow  to  be 
a  scoundrel  ?  Yes,  in  the  bottom  of  the  box  we  found 
the  mystery." 

Barbaroux  looked  very  much  as  though  he  would 
like  less  mystification,  for  certainly  he  had  not  had 
thus  far  much  light  thrown  upon  the  queer  actions 
of  either  the  master  or  the  tenant.  He  began  now  to 
ask  questions  of  the  Marquis — with  his  eyes;  and  the 
latter,  observing  his  puzzled  looks,  suddenly  remem- 
bered that  as  yet  he  had  given  the  man  no  explanation. 

"I  see  you  do  not  understand,"  said  he  ;  "let  me 
explain.  Last  week,  as  you  knew,  the  Moniteur  gave 
the  particulars  of  a  strange  murder  committed,  it  was 
believed,  by  one  Emil  Ferdean,  in  his  own  apartment  in 
a  street  called  after  the  barrier  des  Gobelins.  The  mur- 
dered man  was  found  under  the  bed,  his  face  soaked  in 
dry  blood,  and  horribly  disfigured  by  rats  that  had 
gnawed  it ;  so  much  so  that  it  was  not  recognizable. 
Ferdean  himself  had  disappeared,  and  was  charged  with 
the  murder.  Now,  I  have  an  idea  that  it  was  Ferdean 
who  was  murdered  for  the  wealth  which  we  saw  in  the 
casket  that  bears  his  name,  and  which  was  no  doubt 
his  property.  If  so,  our  'scoundrel'  is  the  murderer. 
To-night,  he  shall  meet  an  inquisitor  here  ;  and  it  will 
then  appear  whether  or  not  my  suspicions  are  correct. 
If  they  are,  why  then — I  shall  own  this  Victor  D'Artivan, 
body  and  soul. 

And  with  a  glance  at  Barbaroux,  which  sent  a  shiver 
through  his  blood,  so  full  of  dark,  malignant  meaning 
were  the  nobleman's  eyes,  he  glided  out  of  the  chamber. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE   MYSTERIOUS   VISITOR. 

It  was  past  twelve  o'clock  that  night  when,  after  a 
day  spent  in  the  feverish  pursuit  of  those  peculiar  pleas- 
ures which  to  the  boulevardier  have  at  all  periods  been 
the  chief  end  of  existence,  D'Artivan  returned  to  the 
villa  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Honore,  tired,  heated  and  peev- 
ish. In  the  vestibule  he  found  Barbaroux  waiting  for 
him. 

"  Pardon,  Monsieur,"  said  the  valet,  addressing  him 
in  a  low  tone,  as  if  afraid  of  being  overheard;  "there  is, 
a  stranger  now  in  the  parlor,  who  called  two  hours  ago 
to  see  you.  He  insists  that  his  business  is  serious  and 
concerns  yourself  particularly,  and  he  will  not  go  until 
he  has  had  some  conversation  with  you." 

D'Artivan  listened  uneasily. 

"Who  is  this  nocturnal  caller?"  asked  he,  in  an 
irritated  voice. 

"He  will  not  give  his  name." 

"The  devil,"  ejaculated  D'Artivan,  with  a  still  more 
troubled  expression.  Like  all  uncaught  criminals,  he 
was  the  constant  slave  of  that  merciless  master  who 
never  gives  place  to  any  other  than  Nemesis — Dread. 

"  Will  Monsieur  see  the  visitor? "  ventured  Barba- 
roux, who  appeared  to  secretly  desire  that  he  should. 

"  Peste,  yes,  I  suppose  so,"  replied  D'Artivan,  who 
started  grumbling  toward  the  parlor,  not  observing,  in 
his  pre-occupation,  the  gratified  smile  upon  the  man's 
face  as  he  turned  away. 

The   parlor  was   darkly  lighted  when  the  unwilling 

126 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  127 

host  entered  it;  but  he  had  no  fault  to  find  with  that, 
since  he  felt  it  impossible  to  conceal  the  anxiety  which 
clouded  his  countenance,  or  to  control  the  nervousness 
of  his  manner. 

The  uneasy  glance  he  cast  around  him  rested  upon 
the  figure  of  a  tall  and  sombrely  dressed  person 
seated  in  a  recess  near  the  entrance.  This  man  was 
surprisingly  dark,  and  wore  very  long  black  locks  that 
were  pushed  back  over  his  ears,  and  an  enormous  black 
beard  and  moustaches. 

D'Artivan  stopped  short  and  gazed  without  speak- 
ing at  his  lugubrious  visitor,  who  also  remained  silent, 
and  sat  motionless  in  his  seat,  his  two  penetrating  eyes 
fixed,  with  an  indescribable  expression  in  them,  upon 
the  face  of  the  Gascon. 

The  latter,  feeling  more  and  more  uncomfortable,  at 
length  cleared  his  throat  with  an  effort,  and  asked,  hesi- 
tatingly: 

"You  wish  to  see  me?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur,"  answered  the  stranger,  in  a  delib- 
erate tone,  and  without  moving.  Then,  as  though  the 
host  and  visitor  had  changed  places, he  motioned  toward 
a  chair,  and  said,  in  the  same  tone  : 

"  Pray  sit  down." 

Incensed  by  this  cool  .assumption  of  his  own  privi- 
leges, D'Artivan  said,  hastily  : 

"  I  will  attend  to  my  own  comfort,  if  you  please. 
What  do  you  wish  of  me  ?  " 

"  Well,  really,"  replied  the  other,  in  the  slow  and 
unembarrassed  manner  of  one  who  is  perfectly  at  home, 
"  I  have  so  much  to  say  to  you  that  it  would  be  decid- 
edly fatiguing  for  you  to  remain  standing  all  the  time 
you  are  listening  to  me." 

D'Artivan,  now  amazed  and  angered  at  the  audacity 
of  the  man,  exclaimed,  roughly  : 


128  HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR. 

"  Sir,  if  you  do  not  instantly  state  your  business,  if 
you  have  any  here,  I  will  have  you  thrown  into  the 
street." 

The  strange  visitor  eyed  him  with  a  look  of  ironical 
reproach,  and  cooly  observed,  without  removing  his 
gaze  for  a  moment: 

"  Upon  my  word,  .Monsieur,  that  would  not  be  at  all 
agreeable  to  me,  and  I  should  vigorously  object.  But, 
to  the  point,  since  you  prefer  to  take  your  approaching 
shock  standing,  I  will  not  again  insist  upon  your  being 
seated,  while  I  administer  it." 

"  In  the  devil's  name,  who  are  you? "  cried  D'Artivan, 
now  pale  with  apprehension,  but  equally  hot  with  exas- 
peration. 

"In  the  name  of  justice,  you  mean,  do  you  not?" 
retorted  the  visitor.  Then,  abruptly  changing  his  tone 
and  manner: 

"  Come,  we  shall  be  serious  as  you  please.  First, 
then,  let  me  recite  :  You  were  in  the  habit,  until  a  fort- 
night ago  or  less,  of  calling  upon  a  certain  jeweler  and 
broker,  residing  in  a  certain  obscure  street  near  the 
barriers.  The  name  of  this  broker  was  Ferdean." 

The  speaker  paused  a  moment,  that  he  might  push 
a  chair  toward  D'Artivan,  who  had  suddenly  found  his 
legs  giving  way  under  him,  and  his  breath  leaving  him, 
at  the  mention  of  the  Arab's  name.  As  soon  as  he  had 
sunk  down  into  the  seat,  the  man  continued: 

"  This  broker  Ferdean  had  from  time  to  time  loaned 
you  sundry  neat  little  sums  upon  your  own  notes  which 
you  secured  on  realty  in  Gascony.  These  notes  and  se- 
curities, with  many  others  of  the  same  kind,  he  deposited 
in  a  small  japanned  tin  box  which  he  nailed  to  the  in- 
side of  his  bedrail,  beneath  the  slats  upon  which  the 
mattress  rested.  Ferdean  had  arranged  this  ingenious — 
and,  as  it  proved,  quite  safe — hiding-place  because,  as  I 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  1 29 

have  said,  he  had  many  more  such  notes  as  yours,  the 
whole  aggregating  nearly  one  hundred  and  ninety  thou- 
sand francs." 

"Thousand  devils  !  "  groaned  D'Artivan,  whose  cha- 
grin at  not  having  discovered  this  Midas-nest  banished 
for  the  moment  even  his  terror  at  the  revelation. 

"Quite  a  fortune,  yes,  for  some  one,"  observed  the 
unknown,  watching  the  expression  of  disappointed 
greed  in  the  other's  face  with  amused  contempt.  Then 
resuming  : 

"  Nine  days  ago,  at  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
this  man,  Emil  Ferdean,  was  stabbed  with  an  oriental 
dagger,  and  killed,  on  the  floor  of  his  room — " 

"  Hold  on  !  It  was  not  Ferdean  that  was  murdered, 
it  was  a — " 

D'Artivan  had  bounded  from  his  chair  at  the  words 
"  Ferdean  was  stabbed,"  the  blood  rushing  to  his  heart, 
and,  in  his  supreme  excitement,  forgetting  precaution, 
everything  save  the  blind  desire  to  divert  the  charge 
which  he  believed  was  about  to  be  hurled  at  him.  But 
in  the  middle  of  his  unguarded  speech  he  stopped  ab- 
ruptly, and  the  blood  surged  from  his  heart  to  his  face. 
He  sat  down,  quivering  with  excitement,  and  turned  his 
eyes  away  from  those  of  the  terrible  accuser  that  were 
searching  him  like  the  surgeon's  probe. 

"  Ferdean  was  murdered,"  said  the  man,  slowly  dwel- 
ling on  each  terrible  syllable,  and  ignoring  D'Artivan's 
contradiction  as  if  he  had  not  heard  it. 

"  Ferdean  was  killed  by  a  certain  person  who  had 
called  upon  him  that  evening  before  dark,  and  who  had 
been  fully  described  by  the  concierge  who  had  often 
seen  him  when  he  called  on  the  broker." 

D'Artivan  uttered  a  groan  and  shivered,  but  offered 
no  other  interruption. 

"When  this  person  left  the  broker's    room,  on  the 


130  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

night  of  the  murder,  he  carried  away  with  him  an  an- 
tique, foreign-made  coffer  of  ebony  wood — " 

This  time  D'Artivan  did  not  groan,  he  shouted.  He 
was  out  of  his  chair  again,  and  with  violent  gestures 
had  checked  the  mysterious  visitor. 

"  Devils  of  Hell !  "  he  cried  ;  "  then  it  was  not  the 
spies  of  that  monster  Robespierre  who  were  sneaking 
into  my — my  rooms  this  morning.  Ah,  that  idiot  Bar- 
baroosa,  his  brains  are  only  cheese,  he  is  a  mis-er-a-ble, 
— the  ass  !  Oh,  I  ought  to  have  known  ;  you  are — you 
come  from  the  Pre — " 

Again  he  stopped  short,  at  the  moment  he  was  about 
to  say  "  Prefecture,"  and  again  he  sat  down,  and  as 
before  averted  his  face. 

"  This  antique  box,"  continued  the  stranger,  as  de- 
liberately as  at  first,  "contained  all  of  Ferdean's  wealth 
except  the  securities  in  the  box  which  was  concealed 
under  the  mattress  of  his  miserable  bed,  and  which  the 
murderer  did  not  find.  The  murderer  and  robber  has 
sold  some  of  the  jewels,  and  has  spent  some  of  the  gold 
that  was  in  the  casket  of  ebony;  but  he  can  not  continue 
to  draw  on  the  treasure  except  by  the  permission  of  an- 
other person  who  knows  all  that  I  have  been  narrating 
to  you." 

At  this  point  D'Artivan  arose,  this  time  silently, 
slowly,  and  crept  toward  the  door.  His  emotions  were 
almost  beyond  his  control.  He  had  at  this  moment  but 
one  overwhelming  thought,  to  steal  into  his  bedroom, 
seize  his  precious  casket,  if  it  were  indeed  still  there,  and 
fly  with  it  from  Paris. 

But  even  while  he  was  revolving  these  thoughts  in 
his  half-crazed  brain,  and  stealthily  moving  toward  the 
door,  the  inexorable  visitor  said  to  him,  without  giving 
him  a  glance: 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  13! 

"  You  need  not  go  in  search  of  the  ebony  casket,  my 
friend,  you  will  not  find  it  in  your  room." 

D'Artivan  turned  quickly.  For  a  while  he  stared, 
speechless,  dumb;  his  blood-shot  eyes  protruding,  his 
hands  convulsively  twitching.  Then  a  cry  like  that  of 
an  animal  escaped  his  lips  ;  and  without  any  more 
warning  than  Ferdean  had  given  him,  he  sprang  at  the 
stranger's  throat,  clutching  a  dagger  which  he  had 
drawn  from  under  his  coat.  But  he  was  anticipated  ; 
and  he  almost  thrust  his  face  against  a  pistol's 
muzzle. 

"  Fool,"  exclaimed  the  unknown,  with  a  sneer  on  his 
bearded  lips,  although  his  eyes  betrayed  suppressed 
anger  ;  "  do  you  think  I  would  come  to  tell  a  murderer 
of  his  crimes  in  his  own  domicil,  and  that  at  midnight 
and  alone,  without  the  means  of  preventing  his  com- 
mitting another?" 

D'Artivan  dropped  his  dagger,  dropped  heavily 
into  his  seat,  and  covered  his  face  with  his  shaking 
hands. 

"  This  man  is  Satan  !  "  groaned  he,  despairingly. 
Then,  suddenly  raising  his  head,  and  regarding  the  other 
with  a  devouring  look: 

"I  do  not  know  who  you  are,"  said  he;  "  and  you 
refuse  to  reveal  yourself.  But  I  see  that  you  know  some- 
thing, though  not  all  of  what  transpired  at  the  money- 
changer's. Now,  I  swear  to  you  this — that  I  did  not 
kill  Ferdean  ;  that  he  attacked  me  with  a  knife  ;  and 
while  pursuing  me  around  the  room,  I  threw  a  quilt 
from  his  bed  over  his  face;  that  he  became  entangled 
in  its  folds,  and,  falling  upon  the  knife,  it  entered  his 
side  and  mortally  wounded  him.  Then,  as  I  knew  that 
he  had  no  relations,  and  none  to  leave  his  possessions  to, 
I  took  the  box  and  carried  it  away." 

The  stranger  listened  to  this  rapidly  uttered   confes- 


132  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

sion  with  folded  arms  and  a  countenance  that  revealed 
nothing.     When  it  was  concluded,  he  said,  quietly  : 

"  You  admit  the  robbery  ;  that  is  enough  to  hang 
you.  As  for  the  murder,  you  could  never  disprove  your 
guilt.  However,  as  I  have  decided  to  use  you,  I  intend 
to  give  you  a  chance  for  your  life.  Barbaroux,  come 
in!" 

As  if  he  had  been  listening  outside  and  waiting  for 
this  summons,  Barbaroux  entered  immediately.  In  his 
hand  he  carried  a  leathern  ink-bottle,  a  sheet  of  paper 
and  a  quill-pen,  all  which  he  deposited  on  a  table.  Then 
he  stood  a  few  paces  off,  and  silently  waited  further  or- 
ders from  the  mysterious  "guest."  The  latter,  pointing 
to  the  paper,  said: 

"  This  is  a  full  confession  of  the  crimes  which  you 
committed  against  Emil  Ferdean  and — the  State.  You 
will  sign  it  in  the  same  handwriting  as  that  which  ap- 
pears in  your  signatures  to  the  notes  you  gave  to  Fer- 
dean. I  have  those  notes  in  my  possession.  Under 
certain  circumstances,  it  is  possible  that  you  may  have 
them  retunned  to  you  canceled,  but  not  now.  After 
you  have  signed,  you  and  I  shall  each  take  an  oath;  you, 
that  you  will  serve  me.  in  any  capacity,  at  any  time,  in 
any  manner,  and  to  any  extent  to  which  I  may  choose 
to  employ  you,  and  that  without  delay,  failure  or  ex- 
cuse; I,  that  so  long  as  you  shall  continue  to  do  all  that 
you  have  sworn  to  do,  I  will  not  denounce  you  nor  de- 
liver you  into  the  hands  of  the  law,  but  will  even  pro- 
tect you  against  it  to  any  reasonable  extent,  and  against 
my  own  enemies — who  will  thus  become  yours.  Kead 
first  what  is  written  there,  and  then  sign." 

Nearly  blinded  by  terror,  rage  and  amazement, 
D'Artivan  took  the  paper  in  his  shaking  fingers,  and 
endeavored  to  read  it.  but  the  letters  danced  like  mock- 
ing imps  before  his  vision,  and  the  only  words  he  saw 


HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR.  133 

were  "murder,"  and  "robbery,"  staring  at  him  like 
menaces  from  the  dead.  With  almost  nerveless  fingers 
he  scrawled  his  name  at  the  foot  of  the  damning  page, 
and  sank  back  with  a  groan. 

"  Witness  the  confession,  Barbaroux,"  commanded 
the  stranger;  and  when  the  valet  had  done  so: 

"  Now,"  said  he,  turning  to  D'Artivan,  and  sud- 
denly tearing  from  his  face  and  head  the  beard,  mous- 
tache and  long  black  locks,  "  can  you  not  guess  who 
I  am?" 

But,  although  D'Artivan  saw  his  metamorphosis  ac- 
complished with  the  greatest  astonishment,  he  showed 
no  signs  of  recognition,  but  shook  his  head. 

"  No,"  said  he,  stupidly;  "I  should  have  said  you  were 

the  Marquis  of  B ,  whom  I  used  to  see  often  on  the 

Boulevards.  You  certainly  resemble  him,  as  I  recollect 
him;  but  the  Marquis  lost  his  nose  some  time  ago.  Per- 
haps you  are  his  brother?  " 

"  Curse  you,"  muttered  the  Marquis,  for  it  was  he, 
and  as  he  uttered  this  malediction  he  ground  his  teeth. 

"Ah,  I  forgot  to — remove  my  nose,1'  he  exclaimed,  in 
a  voice  the  concentrated  bitterness  of  which  it  would  be 
hard  to  describe.  Then,  plucking  a  wax  nose  from  his 
face,  he  stood  forth  in  the  full  light  of  a  candelabra,  that 
his  mutilated  face  might  be  seen  in  all  its  horrid  ugli- 
ness by  the  affrighted  Gascon. 

"  The  Marquis — "  gasped  he,  shrinking  back  in  his 
chair,  as  though  the  sight  withered  his  eyeballs. 

"Ay,  the  Marquis,"  repeated  the  latter,  with  icy  ex- 
pressiveness. "  And  now,  since  you  have  identified  me, 
there  is  no  need  to  delay  the  second  part  of  our  business. 
Come,  let  us  swear — by  our  hopes  of  Heaven,  ha,  ha, 
and  by  our  fears  of  Hell,  and  by  the  mothers  who  bore 
us,  to  keep  inviolate  the  oaths  we  severally  and  sepa- 


134  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

rately  take  here  in  the    presence   of  each   other  and  in 
the  presence  of  this  honest  valet  of  ours  !  " 

Without  the  energy  to  insist  on  being  informed  of 
the  dubious  employment  awaiting  him,  D'Artivan  went 
through  the  formula  passively,  scarcely  knowing  what 
he  was  uttering.  When  this  ceremony  was  ended,  the 
Marquis  took  up  the  warrant  from  the  table,  walked 
quietly  to  the  door  and,  turning  at  the  threshhold,  said: 

"  It  is  late,  Monsieur  D'Artivan,  and  you  will  want  to. 
retire.  Good-night." 

"But  my  box,  my  lord,  my  box,  where  is  it?"  cried 
D'Artivan,  briskly  starting  toward  him  with  his  hands 
outspread. 

"  Oh,  Ferdean's  box.  Yes,  certainly,  I  shall  not  allow 
it  to  fall  into  any  improper  hands,  my  friend.  As  for 
the  valuables  it  contains,  Barbaroux  will  deliver  them  to 
you  to-morrow.  Good-night.  We  shall  have  work  to 
do  soon — very  soon,  I  assure  you,  Monsieur  D'Artivan!'' 

And  without  waiting  to  listen  to  the  protest  his 
"  instrument  "  was  already  beginning,  the  owner  of  the 
villa  opened  the  door  and,  followed  by  his  faithful  ser- 
vant, master  and  valet  were  soon  in  their  respective 
chambers,  and  preparing  for  a  night  of  repose. 

As  for  the  tenant,  he  was  lying  in  a  collapsed  condi- 
tion, in  the  middle  of  the  parlor  floor. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

MIRABEAU. 

In  the  eyes  of  a  snail,  perhaps,  the  ambition  of  Louis 
XVI.  might  have  appeared  lofty;  in  the  eyes  of  his  sub- 
jects it  appeared  puerile  and  contemptible.  He  aspired 
to  become  a  good  locksmith;  but  the  people  wanted  a 
good  governor. 

What  has  been  said  of  other  mournful  failures  may 
be  said  of  him — he  meant  well.  He  had  given  the 
laborers  and  bourgeoises  a  Turgot — that  too-excellent 
minister  of  finance  who  desired  to  reduce  taxation, 
refused  to  borrow  and  demanded  retrenchment  at  the 
Court.  But  for  these  offenses  he  had  been  deposed  at 
the  will  of  the  nobles.  He  had  given  them  Necker,who 
did  what  he  could  to  nurse  the  finances  back  into  health. 
But  Necker,  like  his  predecessor,  became  odious,  because 
he  exposed  to  the  people  the  fact  that  the  real  leeches 
that  were  draining  the  life-blood  of  the  nation  were  the 
nobility.  The  nobles  demanded  his  dismissal,  the  King 
was  weak  and  the  Swiss  banker  gave  way.  Calonne, 
Brienne  and  other  experimentalists  followed,  and  the 
public  health  grew  worse.  At  last  that  dangerous  "  rem- 
edy "  which  a  falling  monarch  was  induced  by  a  des- 
perate minister  to  adopt  was  resorted  to:  the  King 
convoked  the  States-General  to  discuss  the  situation  and 
devise  measures  for  the  public  relief. 

This  fatal  decision  caused  consternation  in  more 
than  one  quarter.  To  Helene  Sainte  Maur  it  prefigured 
the  ruin  of  the  royal  family. 

Helene  Sainte  Maur  was  a  thorough  Frenchwoman 
135 


136  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

in  her  pride  of  country,  and  a  representative  one  in  her 
ready  comprehension  of  its  politics.  Her  opinions  were 
invited,  her  judgment  respected  by  every  one  of  the 
Girondists,  as  well  as  by  many  who  had  as  yet  remained 
outside  of  that  perilous  arena  which  was  soon  to 
become  a  vortex.  Roland,  an  oracle  with  his  coterie, 
often  sought  her  for  advice,  for  ideas.  Before  the  con- 
voking of  the  States-General,  he  went  to  her  with  the 
question: 

"  Do  you  not  think  it  absolutely  necessary?  " 

But  her  reply  had  startled  him: 

"  The  King  has  committed  a  frightful  mistake.  Ca- 
lonne  has  rifled  the  treasury  to  amuse  the  people,  and 
broken  their  backs  by  levying  heavier  future  burdens 
upon  them.  He  has  built  a  road  to  repudiation.  This 
Monseigneur  Brienne  is  an  incapable,  who  will  accom- 
plish nothing.  Even  Calonne's  shoes  are  too  large  for 
him.  The  situation  is  pitiable,  but  as  yet  the  'people' 
do  not  know  the  truth  about  it.  Well,  it  is  now  going 
to  be  exposed  to  them.  The  King  will  go  to  the  Assem- 
bly in  a  magnificent  procession  with  his  courtieurs,  the 
main  object  of  which  will  be  to  display  the  grandeur 
of  the  noblesse  to  the  hungry  representatives  of  the 
people,  this  '  Third  Estate,'  which  outnumbers  them 
three  to  one.  When  his  Majesty  arrives  at  the  hall, 
he  will  find  three  factions  already  arrayed  against  each 
other,  secretly  waiting  to  disagree  and  disunite — to 
unite  against  him.  And  then,  when  the  ragged  and 
tax-ridden  representatives  of  the  Tiers-Etat  set  their 
eyes  upon  the  sumptuous  extravagance  of  the  noblesse, 
and  the  sleek  faces  and  arrogant  movements  of  the 
upper  clergy,  its  hostility  will  show  itself  to  both 
orders,  and  it  will  set'up  housekeeping  without  them. 
Such  a  catastrophe  will  cost  the  King  his  throne — per- 
haps his  head." 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  137 

Some  of  the  nobles  and  many  of  the  under-clergy 
had  finally  come  over  to  the  Tiers-Etat,  but  the  latter 
had  discovered  their  strength,  and  were  now  the  real 
arbiters  of  the  fate  of  the  monarchy.  One  of  their  first 
acts  was  grimly  significant;  they  elected  Dr.  Guillotin  a 
representative. 

Becoming  bolder,  the  Assembly  began  to  discuss  a 
constitution. 

The  King,  concluding  it  was  time  to  look  after  his 
personal  safety,  filled  the  Palace  at  Versailles  with  Swiss 
and  other  foreign  troops.  This  incensed  the  "  people  " 
to  such  a  degree  that  they  broke  open  the  armourers' 
shops,  armed  themselves  with  their  stolen  weapons,  and 
organized  the  National  Guards,  with  Lafayette  as  Com- 
mander-in-chief. 

Everything  was  now  radical;  the  word  "conservative" 
was  too  dangerous  to  be  spoken,  it  betrayed  "aristocrat- 
ical  tendencies."  Everything  was  in  motion,  passivity 
was  impossible.  Change,  change,  and  again  change, 
was  the  meaning  that  Mirabeau's  cry  in  the  tribune  bore 
to  his  colleagues  in  the  Assembly — 

"  Boldness,  boldness,  and  again — boldness!  " 

The  vulgar  fustian  of  the  Commons  had  charmed 
the  vulgar  populace  ;  but  the  populace  so  encouraged 
and  flattered  the  Commons  that  ere  long  the  latter 
became  insufferable  to  the  other  two  orders  who  had, 
long  since,  began  a  struggle  against  the  Tiers-Etat  for 
supremacy.  From  this  contest  emerged — the  mountain 
afterwards  the  synonym  of  terror. 

Two  demagogic  spirits  in  the  Assembly  were,  in 
the  main,  responsible  for  this  division — Mirabeau  and 
Robespierre. 

This  turbulent  Mirabeau,  at  heart  an  aristocrat,  while 
affecting  the  habits  of  a  bourgeois,  had  been  long  an 
object  of  dislike  to  the  noblesse.  Finally,  they  virtually 


138  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

turned  him  out  of  the  order;  and  his  then  somewhat 
doubtful  fortunes  were  at  once  cast  with  the  Commons. 
At  this  time  the  foul-smelling  and  ragged  habitues  of 
the  cellars  and  sewers  of  Paris  were  crawling  out  of 
their  dens  and  becoming  an  element  of  strength.  To 
ingratiate  himself  with  these  "sansculottes"  Mirabeau 
opened,  and  pretended  to  conduct  for  awhile,  a  tailor 
shop;  although  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  the 
proprietor  was  never,  or  seldom,  seen  at  his  place  of 
business. 

Mirabeau  was  always  complaining  of  being  a  poor 
man.  But  poverty  is  "oftener  bred  from  man's  wants 
than  from  his  necessities,  and  this  was  a  truism  in 
Mirabeau's  case.  In  one  way  or  another  he  obtained 
money  frequently,  and  in  considerable  sums.  For  some 
time  he  was  in  receipt  of  twenty  thousand  francs  a 
month  from  "Monsieur,"  the  King's  brother,  his  influ- 
ence being  for  awhile  of  grave  importance  to  the  royal 
family.  But  Mirabeau,  while  ostentatiously  frugal, 
indulged  himself  in  numerous  extravagances,  which 
benefited  no  one,  and  kept  his  ourse  lean,  and  some- 
times empty. 

One  day  this  Gigas,  who  was  eating  his  heart  out 
with  discontent  (that  dragon  that  breeds  a  thousand 
plagues),  was  striding  along  through  the  Faubourg  St. 
Germain.  He  was  not  often  seen  in  that  aristocratic 
neighborhood  now;  its  memories  were  somewhat  bitter. 
And  on  this  occasion  he  seemed  in  haste  to  get  away 
from  it. 

He  had  turned  westward,  and  was  rapidly  proceed- 
ing in  the  direction  of  the  I'nvalides,  when  he  passed 
the  chateau  of  Mile.  Sainte  Maur.  At  that  moment  an 
elegant  coupe  stopped  in  front  of  the  chateau,  and  a 
footman  in  blue  livery  opened  the  carriage-door.  Mira- 
beau, glancing  casually,  saw  a  fairy-like  foot,  in  a  deli- 


HETETNE   SAINTE    MAUR.  139 

cate  buskin,  peeping  out,  as  it  felt  for  the  lowered  car- 
riage-step; and,  following  the  little  foot  a  gloriously 
beautiful  woman.  As  she  crossed  the  pavement  to  enter 
her  door,  Mirabeau  was,  for  a  single  instant,  within  two 
feet  of  her,  and  she  naturally  gave  him  a  flitting  glance. 
Brief  as  the  contact  was,  and  unconscious  as  her  glance 
must  have  been,  Mirabeau  received  a  shock.  He  sud- 
denly stopped. 

Mademoiselle  also  stopped;  but  she  did  not  notice 
Mirabeau  again.  She  did  not  know  him,  nor  was  she 
now  conscious  that  he  was  there.  But  he  certainly  was, 
rooted  to  the  pavement,  as  much  so  as  if  two  hands  had 
been  thrust  up  from  beneath  it  and  seized  his  feet.  He 
was  devouring  her  with  his  eyes,  the  superb  contour  of 
her  person,  the  classic  beauty  of  her  features,  the 
exquisite  tints  of  her  complexion.  To  all  else  he  was 
oblivious. 

Mademoiselle  gave  the  coachman  a  word  or  two,  and 
then  ran  up  the  steps.  The  door  of  the  chateau  closed 
upon  her,  the  coupe  rolled  off,  and  the  footman  walked 
away  without  observing  him.  Still  he  remained.  He 
stared  up  at  the  front  of  the  house  as  though  he  was 
on  the  point  of  assaulting  it.  His  face  became  suffused 
with  a  deep  red  hue,  his  lips  murmured  indistinct  sounds, 
his  eyes  grew  intensely  luminous.  After  five  minutes  of 
this  pantomimic  display,  he  passed  his  hand  confusedly 
over  his  heavy  brow,  and  passed  on  with  a  hasty  and 
nervous  stride. 

The  next  day,  Mirabeau  went  to  Madame  de  Valin- 
court,  who  knew  everyone,  and  from  her  learned  all 
that  Paris  knew  of  Mile.  Helene  Sainte  Maur. 

On  the  fifth  evening  after  that  he  was  formally 
introduce  to  Helene  in  the  saloon  of  Madame  de  Valin- 
court,  who,  though  actually  a  royalist,  was  on  excellent 
terms  with  all  the  republican  leaders. 


140  HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR. 

Mirabeau  was  graciously  received  by  Helene,  who 
saw  in  him  one  of  the  chiefs  of  the  great  parties  who 
were  shaking  France  to  its  center.  Whenever  she  fixed 
her  eyes  upon  his  face,  which  she  frequently  did,  the 
expression  in  them  was  one  of  profound  interest,  of 
unconscious  contemplation.  As  for  him,  this  scrutiny 
pleased  his  vanity — which  at  all  times  manifested  itself, 
for  it  was  egregious,  and  increased  his  self-confidence — 
which  was  prodigious.  That  she  had  captivated  him  was 
apparant  to  many  who  saw  him  following  her  about 
during  the  whole  evening.  She  had  kindled  volcanic 
fires  within  his  turbulent  bosom  which  nothing  but 
death  could  quench,  and  none  knew  this  better  than 
he.  When  he  was  preparing  for  the  fifth  time  to  take 
his  leave  of  her  on  that  initial  night,  he  said  to  her,  in 
the  accents  of  smothered  passion  : 

"What  they  say  of  you  is  true:  you  are  Diana  made 
mortal.  Well,  you  have  shown  me  the  depths  of  my 
own  soul." 

After  that  confession,  Helene  Sainte  Maur's  orbit 
held  another  satellite — and  a  lurid  one  indeed.  But, 
unlike  that  of  most  of  her  worshipers,  the  homage  of 
this  one  was  destined  to  be  one  of  some  service  to  her. 

The  condition  of  affairs  in  the  Capital,  meanwhile, 
had  become  serious,  then  gloomy,  finally  threatening; 
and  worse  was  coming.  Paris  had  fallen  before  an 
idol,  and  that  idol  was  Voltaire;  it  had  fled  before  an 
ogre,  and  that  ogre  was  Mesmer.  Voltaire  had  been 
deified,  and  Mesmer  banished. 

Roland  and  his  co-fanatics  had  attempted  to  foster 
the  idea  of  a  new  government  based  upon  doctrines 
dreamed  out  in  the  libraries  of  the  Girondists.  A  "sys- 
tem "  resulted,  but  Satan  came  to  reign  over  the  ideal  gov- 
ernment of  which  it  was  the  precursor.  Roland's  school 
was  academic,  it  claimed  to  be  a  junta  of  philosophers. 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  14! 

But  with  fanatics  philosophy  is  an  abyss.  Paris  fell 
into  this  abyss,  and  became  infidel,  and  nothing  anv 
longer  was  sacred. 

France  became  a  country  without  a  God. 

The  profligacy  of  Louis  XV.  had  covered  half  a  cen- 
tury ;  it  had  devoured  everything  in  the  granary 
Louis  XV.  died  peacefully,  however,  in  a  bed  draperied 
with  gold  tissue.  On  either  side  of  his  couch  a  priest 
knelt;  and  these  two  in  less  than  half  an  hour  had  prayed 
him  out  of  the  world  and  into  — . 

His  successor  inherited  a  crown  which  he  knew  not 
how  to  wear;  the  fealty  of  a  people  he  knew  not  how  to 
govern;  debts  that  he  knew  not  how  to  pay.  Unfor- 
tunately for  France,  and  no  less  unfortunately  for  his 
Queen,  was  it  that,  although  not  a  coward,  he  was  a 
poltroon;  although  he  wished  to  do  right,  he  was  a  dolt; 
although  he  was  not  selfish,  he  was  a  glutton. 

Knowing  nothing  of  statecraft,  the  King  amused  him- 
self at  a  workman's  bench,  in  a  leathern  apron.  Disliking 
court  etiquette  and  constraint,  the  Queen,  in  dimity 
aprons,  played  at  dairy  farming  with  her  young  maids 
of  honor,  in  the  white  marble  Trianon  the  King  had 
caused  to  be  built  for  her  to  make  butter  in;  and  all 
this  time  the  mob  of  starvelings  in  the  great  city  were 
howling  for  loaves  they  had  not  the  means  to  buy. 

France  itself  was  impoverished;  national  bankruptcy, 
(which  afterwards  came)  impended  ;  and  behind  the 
spectre  of  bankruptcy  stood  a  demon  upon  whose  livid 
brow  was  written  that  word  more  terrible  than  all  others 
to  a  nation — Anarchy. 

Discontent  was  everywhere.  France  had  long  been 
traveling  toward  revolution;  Paris  was  already  ripe  for 
it.  The  idlers,  the  criminals,  the  workmen  of  Paris  had 
met,  fraternized,  combined  and  conspired.  Now  taught 
that  there  was  no  God,  and  that  conscience  was  <;a 


142  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

superstition,"  that  man  was  the  lawful  prey  of  man, 
they  were  about  to  let  loose  their  long-repressed  pas- 
sions, and  begin  a  carnival  of  blood. 

The  center  of  this  living  maelstrom  was  the  Bastille, 
that  fortress  of  tyranny  and  sepulchre  of  hope. 

This  immense  prison,  one  of  the  most  infamous  in 
all  history,  was  situated  in  the  space  now  called  Place 
de  la  Bastiile,  in  the  northeastern  portion  of  Paris.  Its 
gloomy  stone  walls,  thirty  feet  thick  at  the  base  and  ten 
at  the  summit,  were  penetrated  by  loop-holes  through 
which  a  small  garrison  or  guard  could  easily  direct  a  fire 
of  annihilation  with  cannon  and  musketry  upon  a  for- 
midable besieging  force.  Triple  gratings  admitted  air 
and  fragmentary  rays  of  light  into  the  prison.  But 
these  mournful  rays  came  from  a  sun  saddened  by  the 
aspect  of  misery  which  forever  met  them  within  those 
deep-laid  walls.  The  surrounding  walls  and  gates — 
barriers — were  huge  and  formidable.  The  eastern  end 
of  the  Rue  St.  Antoine,  extending  from  the  Hotel  de 
Ville  on  the  west,  opened  on  the  Bastille  grounds;  and 
the  Faubourg  St.  Antoine  proper,  with  its  network  of 
narrow  streets — so  dangerous  in  time  of  local  insurrec- 
tions— extended  from  it  toward  the  eastern  barriers  of 
the  city. 

On  the  night  of  the  i3th  July,  1789,  the  royal  session 
of  the  Assembly  sat  in  ominous  and  troubled  silence  at 
Versailles,  as  if  waiting  to  hear  the  tocsin  sounded  by 
the  two  hundred  thousand  armed  citizens  who  had  that 
day  declared  that  the  Bastille  must  be  razed. 

On  the  day  after  that  sleepless  and  useless  session 
the  threat  was  fulfilled. 

At  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  old  and  grizzled 
veteran,  Commandant  Launay,  saw  from  the  roofs  of 
the  Bastille  thousands  of  dark  objects  approaching  from 
four  directions.  To  him,  from  his  lofty  outlook,  they 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  143 

appeared  like  human  larvae,  as  they  crept  along  the 
streets.  As  they  came  nearer,  the  hum,  not  of  wings,  but 
of  voices,  was  borne  up  to  him,  and  he  said,  as  he  looked: 

"  They  be'gin  with  the  Bastille;  they  will  end  with 
the  throne." 

The  streets  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  fortress  had 
since  daybreak  been  thronged  with  bands  of  workmen. 
The  Rue  St.  Antoine  had  arisen,  lit  ere  daybreak  by 
incendiary  fires,  and  had  warmed  itself  for  serious  work. 
The  Ouartier  had  been  swept  by  a  tourbillon  of  cavalry 
which,  after  killing  a  few  hundreds  of  the  insurgents, 
had  disappeared  as  rapidly  as  they  had  come. 

But,  as  if  they  had  crawled  out  of  the  earth,  the  des- 
perate rabble  had  again  swarmed  into  the  street  which 
now  leads  from  the  Place  du  Trone  to  the  grounds  of 
the  Bastille,  augmented  by  citizen-soldiers  who  were 
being  led  by  veterans. 

And  now,  beginning  with  an  ominous  murmur  that 
rose  and  swelled  into  a  mighty  shout,  came  the  hoarse 
cry  of  the  commune — "A  bas  le  Bastille!" 

The  revolution  was  at  hand. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

ACHILLE    DUDEVANT. 

Between  the  beginning  of  July  and  the  beginning  of 
October,  1789,  events  of  the  utmost  importance  to  both 
the  nation  and  King  had  transpired  in  the  French 
capital.  Paris  was  now  a  seething  vortex,  into  which 
its  entire  population  was  being  drawn,  and  in  the  midst 
of  that  human  maelstrom  were  those  whose  history  we 
are  writing. 

The  human  stomach  is  an  animal.  Fill  it  to  repletion 
and  there  is  torpor,  indifference,  stupidity.  Supply  it 
generously,  and  there  is  energy,  good  nature  and  peace. 
Deny  it  food,  starve,  it,  and  it  stirs  with  discontent,  and 
this  discontent  finally  generates  hate,  rage,  frenzy, 
despair  and  vengeance. 

Such  had  been  the  condition  of  the  Parisian  stomach 
— among  the  working  classes — for  an  indefinite  period. 
The  scarcity  of  bread  had  increased,  and  the  canaille 
had  grown  gaunt  and  dangerous  again.  No  longer 
fed  on  the  pabulum  of  hope,  they  had  succumbed  to 
despair.  The  King's  purse  was  empty,  not  a  louis  d'or 
remained.  Still,  there  remained  to  him  five  hundred 
horses,  the  most  superb  that  money,  influence  and  force 
could  procure  from  all  quarters  of  the  globe.  These 
horses,  however,  were  for  the  sole  use  of  royalty;  they 
were  housed  in  the  magnificent  crescent-shaped  stables 
at  the  end  of  the  grand  avenue  at  Versailles;  their  coats 
were  always  well-lined  and  slick,  and  the  chief  veterinary 
received  ten  thousand  livres  a  year  for  keeping  them 
with  good  appetites. 

144 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  145 

On  the  morning  of  the  5th  of  October,  there  was 
another  revolt;  hunger  could  be  borne  no  longer.  At 
an  early  hour  market  porters  who  had  nothing  to  carry 
in  their  baskets,  poissardes  who  had  no  fish  to  clean, 
butchers  who  had  no  beef  to  slaughter  or  serve,  the 
vagabondage  of  the  by-ways,  made  their  way  into  the 
Bastille  grounds,  crying  in  hoarse  or  feeble  tones: 

"A  bas  les  Aristocrats  !  " 

What  had  they  come  there  for?  No  one  knew  except 
themselves,  and  as  for  them,  they  could  give  no  explana- 
tion. They  knew  what  they  wanted,  however,  and  they 
were  in  search  of  it.  Victory  had  for  the  first  time  met 
them  before  the  Bastille;  oerhaps  they  should  find  it  on 
the  same  spot  again. 

Suddenly,  there  was  another  irruption — but  this  time 
of  women.  Hundreds  of  them  came  from  every  street 
in  the  neighborhood,  pouring  into  the  open  space  like 
the  torrent  of  an  enormous  sewer.  These  women  were 
scantily  clad;  their  clothing,  if  rags  may  be  called  cloth- 
ing, hanging  loosely  upon  them  and  gaping  with  rents. 
They  were  gaunt  and  pale  and  haggard — the  most  of 
them;  but  here  and  there  was  one  whose  stout  and 
brawny  frame  famine  had  not  attacked  or  could  not  con- 
quer. Except  these  few,  the  young  girls,  the  young 
women,  the  old  and  hideous  hags,  all  wore  the  same 
look  of  ravening  hunger,  of  wild-eyed  despair,  and  vin- 
dictive fury. 

Here  was  a  picture  of  Inferno. 

Suddenly,  a  man  pushed  his  way  into  their  midst. 
He  was  dressed  like  a  schoolman,  was  about  thirty  years 
of  age,  and  had  a  shrewd  face  which  was  lighted  by  two 
observant  black  eyes.  The  name  of  this  man  was 
Achille  Dudevant,  of  whom  we  have  already  heard. 

What  was  he  doing  there  ? 

This  question  rose  to  the  lips  of  some  of  the  women, 


146  HELENE    SAINTE  MAUR. 

who  began  to  eye  him  with  looks  that  were  at  once  sus- 
picious and  threatening. 

But  Dudevant  showed  neither  hesitation  nor  fear. 
With  a  flourish  of  his  hand  he  commanded  silence;  and 
the  poor  creatures,  who  had  come  there  for  they  knew 
not  what,  crowded  eagerly  around  him,  and  for  a  time 
ceased  to  screech  and  curse. 

"  My  good  women,"  began  Dudevant,  in  a  loud  voice; 
"  you  have  come  here  to  do  something,  have  you  not  ? '' 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  God,  yes  !  "  screamed  the  beldames,  in 
chorus,  flinging  their  skinny  arms  over  their  unkempt 
heads. 

"  Good.  Then — listen  to  me.  Do  you  know  the  way 
to  Versailles  ?" 

"Yes,  yes,  we  know  it,  we  know  it !  Madame  Deficit 
is  there,"  came  the  shrill  chorus. 

Dudevant  laughed.  The  canaille  had  been  taught 
by  Danton  to  call  the  Queen  by  that  name,  which  meant 
that  she  had  bankrupted  France,  and  caused  all  their 
misery.  He  did  not  correct  them,  but  continued  : 

"Versailles  is  twelve  miles  from  Paris,  by  the  finest 
avenue  in  the  world.  It  is  twenty-five  toises  wide,  and 
shaded  with  fine  linden  and  poplar  trees.  You  will 
enjoy  a  promenade  on  it,  and  you  have  the  right  to  do 
so.  Well,  the  King  lodges  at  the  other  end  of  that 
avenue;  and  every  day  thirteen  hundred  idle  people  are 
sumptuously  fed  from  his  feables." 

"A  bas  les  Aristocrats  !  " 

Twice  the  frenzied  cry  was  repeated,  before  Dude- 
vant could  proceed. 

"  You  are  right,"  shouted  he,  as  soon  as  he  could 
make  himself  heard  above  the  tintamarre.  "  Well,  you 
are  hungry,  my  poor  friends,  and  I  have  come  to  tell 
you  that  there  are  a  thousand  cart-loads  of  corn  at  Ver- 
sailles. Go  there,  and  you  will  find  plenty  of  food. 


HELENE    SAINTK    MAUR.  147 

Select  twelve  strong  and  shrewd  women  among  you  for 
a  committee.  Let  these  twelve  go  into  the  palace  and 
sec  the  King.  You  will  remain  outside,  but  these  twelve 
must  force  themselves  in,  do  you  hear?" 

"Yes,  yes!"  shrieked  the  beldames. 

•'Do  not  be  afraid  to  do  so.  Not  one  of  the  National 
Guards,  or  the  King's  Guards,  will  fire  on  a  woman  of 
France,  nor  offer  her  a  bayonet  thrust.  Let  the-  com- 
mittee demand  of  the  King  bread  and  rice.  Then  eat, 
and  eat,  and  eat  again.  One  such  visit  will  be  enough, 
I  warrant  you;  and,  after  that,  bread  will  be  distributed 
every  day  to  the  poor  of  Paris.  Now,  then,  off  with 
you! " 

"To  Versailles,  to  Versailles!"  shouted  the  frenzied 
women,  before  whose  distorted  eyes  were  already  vis- 
ions of  eating  and  drinking  to  satiation;  and  with  one 
tremendous  surge  they  turned  their  faces  toward  the 
west,  followed  by  several  hundred  working  men  and 
marauders,  who  desired  to  see  the  "women  emeute,"  as 
well  as  to  participate  in  the  spoil,  if  any  should  be 
secured. 

Mingling  in  the  crowd  of  women,  and  tenaciously 
holding  his  place  near  the  seditious  journalist,  was  a 
young  man  dressed  in  a  porter's  blouse  and  overalls, 
and  wearing  the  red  cap  which  was  the  surest  passport 
into  such  a  gathering,  and  in  this  case  allowed  the 
wearer  to  pass  unquestioned,  although  he  neither  sang 
nor  shouted.  This  man  had  been  an  eager  listener  to 
everything  that  Dudevant  had  uttered.  He  had  fol- 
lowed the  latter  all  the  way  from  the  Hotel  de  Ville, 
and  penetrated  the  crowd  of  women  after  him,  deter- 
mined, as  it  appeared,  to  keep  his  man  in  sight  and  hear 
what  he  had  come  there  to  say.  As  the  throng  rushed 
out  of  the  Place  de  la  Bastille,  this  person  separated 
from  it,  after  being  carried  along  with  the  muddy  cur- 


148  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

rent  as  far  as  St.  Paul's,  where  he  slipped  into  a  heavy 
portal,  mounted  a  step,  and  allowed  the  multitude  to 
pass  on.  Had  any  chance  acquaintance  met  him  there 
he  would  have  been  easily  recognized,  in  spite  of  the 
disguise  he  wore,  by  the  ugly  scar  on  his  left  cheek.  It 
was,  in  fact,  D'Artivan,  the  tool  and  spy  of  the  Marquis 

of  B ,  dogging  the  tool  and  spy  of  Robespierre  and 

Danton. 

While  D'Artivan  stood  watching  the  last  of  the  rab- 
ble, some  one  touched  him  on  the  arm.  He  started 
and,  turning  his  head  hastily,  beheld,  with  some  con- 
fusion, Dudevant  himself  standing  at  his  side  and  laugh- 
ing maliciously,  his  hat  pulled  down  over  his  rat-like 
eyes,  his  whole  manner  triumphant  and  gleeful. 

D'Artivan  stared  at  him  with  a  look  of  surprise, 
which  did  not  conceal  an  expression  of  dislike  also. 
But  for  the  moment  Dudevant  was  too  much  engrossed 
to  observe  either. 

"Saints  and  devils!"  exclaimed  he,  surveying  the 
porter's  dress  of  the  other,  without  ceasing  to  laugh. 
"  You  have  changed  your  calling,  then,  and  you  are  now 
an  honest  bonnet- rouge.  Good  !  Well,  you  saw,  did 
you  not,  how  I  played  the  orator  just  now?  What  do 
you  think  of  my  little  trick?  My  committee  will  leave 
some  Paris  mud  on  the  palace  steps,  those  fine  white 
marble  steps,  thirty  feet  wide,  that  lead  up  toward  the 
King's  apartments.  Oh,  they  are  sweet  children,  these 
she- wolves  !  Couthon  was  right;  only  let  them  see  the 
luxury  in  which  this  fat  burgher  wallows,  and  they  will 
be  ripe  for  anything." 

D'Artivan  glowered  at  the  speaker  with  increasing 
anger.  His  mind  had  been  running  back  to  the  scene 
in  the  caf6  of  the  Three  Virgins,  and  Dudevant's  part  in 
it.  Then,  he  was  violently  hostile  to  the  ragged  pop- 
ulace, which  was  destroying  everything  existing  and 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  149 

creating  nothing.  They  had  been  the  instruments  of 
harm  to  him,  since  repudiation  had  begun,  not  only  on 
the  part  of  the  spurious  "government,"  but  among  the 
farmers  themselves,  the  tenants  of  landed  proprietors. 
Moreover,- he  was  wedded  in  interest  to  the  Marquis  of 

B — • ,  a  fierce   and    uncompromising  royalist  whom 

the  canaille  had  ostracized.  While  he  gazed  silently 
and  with  gathered  brows  at  Dudevant,  the  latter  sud- 
denly glanced  at  the  cicatrice  on  his  face. 

"Hullo!"  cried  he,  bursting  into  another  laugh, 
which  was  all  the  more  hearty  because  he  was -reminded 
at  the  moment  of  D'Artivan's  insulting  epithets  just 
before  the  latter  received  the  scar.  "  And  so  you  still 
carry  Mademoiselle's  card,  eh?  " 

D'Artivan  reddened  furiously;  but  he  did  not  under- 
stand the  remark,  and  glared  in  silence  at  the  jour- 
nalist. 

"  Oho,"  continued  Dudevant;  "I  see  that  you  have 
really  never  been  enlightened  about  your  lucky  adver- 
sary. "Ho,  ho,  that  is  droll,  upon  my  soul!"  and  he 
fairly  doubled  his  body  like  a  half-closed  clasp-knife,  in 
the  excess  of  his  mirth. 

"Sir,"  growled  D'Artivan,  passionately,  "what  is  the 
matter  with  you,  and  what  are  you  talking  about?" 

"Oh,  I  am  on  the  point  of  telling  you;  only  it  is  so 
exceedingly  funny — however,  here  goes.  Your  victor  in 
the  duel  in  which  you  stopped  his  sword  on  your  cheek 
bone  so  neatly  was  not  Monsieur  Aubrey!  " 

D'Artivan  sneered  contemptuously.  "Well,  I  am  not 
surprised  at  that.  Probably  he  had  some  doubts  about 
the  result  of  the  affair,  and  thought  of  the  false  name  as 
a  screen.  And,  in  faith,  I  think  it  would  have  been  a 
precaution  well  taken  if  I  had  not  thought  him  too  much 
of  a  boy  to  attempt  my  best  with.  But  I  do  not  see 
anything  funny  in  this." 


150  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

"  But  that  is  not  all.  Your  antagonist  who  so  neatly 
carved  you  was  a  girl!  " 

D'Artivan  sprang  down  from  the  stone  steps,  his 
eyes  flaming. 

"What  do  you  say?"  he  shouted,  paying  no  atten- 
tion to  the  passers-by,  several  of  whom  had  stopped  to 
listen  to  this  singular  colloquy. 

"I  say,"  repeated  Dudevant,  with  a  very  slow  enun- 
ciation, in  order  to  prolong  the  effect  of  the  shock/'that 
your  antagonist  in  the  duel  was  a  girl;  and  that  the 
girl  was  Mademoiselle  Clarise,  the  fiancee  of  our  mutual 
acquaintance,  Paul  Cambray!" 

D'Artivan  waited  to  hear  no  more.  With  a  yell  that 
sounded  strangely  savage  in  that  crowded  thoroughfare 
he  bounded  away  towards  the  quay,  followed  by  the 
laughter  and  jeers  of  a  score  of  loiterers  who  had  gath- 
ered around  the  journalist. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE   CAVALCADE. 

At  twelve  o'clock  noon,  on  the  day  of  the  emeute  of 
the  women  in  the  Rue  St.  Antoine,  Sir  Philip  Belmore, 
Hubert  and  Ralph  Meltham  and  Captain  Felix  Dumes- 
nil, attended  by  the  three  valets  of  the  Englishmen,  and 
all  finely  mounted,  entered  the  middle  course  of  the 
Grand  Avenue  leading  from  Paris  to  Versailles.  The 
morning  was  disagreeable;  a  drizzling  rain  had  been 
falling  for  hours,  and  was  now  threatening  to  become  a 
steady  down-pour. 

One-third  of  the  distance  had  been  covered,  and  the 
party  was  pushing  forward  at  a  spirited  gait,  when  they 
saw  before  them,  and  proceeding  in  the  same  direction 
as  themselves,  a  motley  throng  of  people. 

"Good  heaven,  Dumesnil,"  exclaimed  Sir  Philip, 
turning  a  disturbed  look  upon  the  latter;  "yonder  rab- 
ble are  on  their  way  to  the  Palace!  Can  the  miscreants 
mean  to  attack  it,  think  you?" 

Dumesnil  laughed  grimly.  He  knew  something  of 
the  Parisian  temper,  of  the  capricious  cruelty  of  the 
populace. 

"  Not  this  time,"  returned  he;  "they  are  only  going 
to  spy  out  the  land  and  to  bully  the  King,  who  is  no 
longer  able  to  protect  himself.  But,  mon  Dieu!"  he 
suddenly  roared;  "they  are  women!  Come,"  giving  the 
rein  to  his  horse,  "  let  us  forward  and  see  what  Paris 
has  vomited  on  Versailles  this  morning." 

His  companions,  especially  Sir  Philip,  who  was 
strangely  disturbed,  needed  no  urging.  The  whole  cav- 

151 


152  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

alcade  started  into  a  gallop;  and  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
they  were  in  the  midst  of  as  strange  a  rabble  as  ever 
infested  the  purlieus  of  a  city. 

Following  the  devilish  promptings  of  the  journalist 
Dudevant,  six  hundred  women,  famished  and  desperate, 
had  actually  set  out  on  that  dismal  morning  on  their 
wild  and  hopeless  errand.  They  were  accompanied  by 
several  hundred  idle  men,  some  fragments  of  the  many 
thousands  who  for  months  had  oscillated  from  one  side 
to  the  other  of  Paris,  searching  for  plunder,  inciting 
sedition  and  urging  violence. 

From  one  of  these  vagabonds,  a  sooty-faced,  ruffianly 
fellow,  Sir  Philip  learned  the  forlorn  object  of  their 
visit.  It  seemed  to  him  incredible. 

"What  madness!"  exclaimed  he,  in  amazement,  as 
he  slowly  threaded  the  stream  of  savage  humanity; 
"they  will  get  nothing  there." 

"Morbleu!  what  is  that  you  say?"*  shouted  the 
ruffian,  who  had  followed  close  behind  him.  "They 
will  get  nothing,  eh?"  he  growled,  angrily;  "aha!  you 
must  be  one  of  the  cursed  aristocrats."  Then,  elevat- 
ing his  voice  so  that  it  was  plainly  heard  above  the  din 
of  the  moving  mass: 

"  Hear  him,  hear  this  aristocrat ! "  he  vociferated, 
pointing  to  Sir  Philip,  who  indeed  "looked  every  inch 
an  aristocrat,"  as  he  spurred  his  horse  on  through  the 
press. 

Instantly  a  thousand  blood-shot  and  wolfish  eyes 
were  on  him,  a  thousand  gaunt  or  brawny  arms  were 
stretched  toward  him,  while  hundreds  of  hoarse  voices 
shrieked  or  vociferated  : 

"Down  with  the  aristocrat!     Down  with  him!  " 

Belmore  looked  quickly  about  him,  and  perceived 
nothing  whatever  of  his  party,  as  he  peered  forward 
through  the  veil  of  mist  which  was  now  beginning  to 


HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR.  153 

envelop  the  heads  of  the  multitude.  He  had  loitered 
behind  his  friends,  without  their  observing  it;  and  hav- 
ing no  motive  in  lingering  in  the  midst  of  the  foul- 
smelling  and  writhing  mass,  they  had  pushed  ahead,  had 
cleared  the  crowd,  and  left  it  a  hundred  paces  behind 
them  before  they  discovered  that  Sir  Philip  was  not 
following.  Between  them  and  him  was  now  a  solid  mass 
of  desperate  and  hostile  wretches,  who  were  pressing 
toward  him  from  flank,  front  and  rear,  with  savage 
curses  and  murderous  intent,  some  armed  with  forks 
and  knives,  others  with  butcher's  cleavers,  pikes  or 
staves. 

He  looked  down  on  them  without  fear,  but  even 
while  he  looked  twenty  blackened  hands  were  raised  and, 
clutching  their  rude  weapons,  as  many  ruffians  pushed 
their  way  fiercely  toward  him.  His  bridle-reins  were 
seized,  then  his  stirrups,  by  the  hags  who  surrounded 
him,  and  a  huge  foundryman,  in  overalls  and  blouse, 
grasped  the  tail  of  his  horse  and  attempted  to  hold  the 
struggling  animal  back. 

The  situation  of  Sir  Philip  was  critical  in  the 
extreme,  as  he  instantly  comprehended.  Cut  off  from 
his  friends,  surrounded  by  hundreds  of  human  wolves 
thirsting  for  his  life,  horse  and  driver  in  the  grasp  of  a 
score  of  them,  escape  seemed  an  impossibility. 

But  the  eye  of  Belmore,  instead  of  quailing  at  the 
formidable  signs  that  greeted  it,  flamed  fire;  his  cheek, 
instead  of  blanching,  glowed  redly,  for  the  Saxon  blood 
was  surging  hotly  through  them.  Rising  in  his  stir- 
rups, and  shortening  his  rein,  he  shouted  as  he  drew  his 
sword: 

"  Back!  On  your  lives,  back!  " 

His  voice  rang  out  like  the  notes  of  a  trumpet  above 
the  now  deafening  hubbub,  and  there  was  a  momentary 
recoil,  as  he  drew  his  horse  together  for  a  spring.  In 


154  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

that  one  instant  his  quick  eye  had  swept  the  circle  of 
his  foes,  and  in  one  direction,  to  the  left  oblique,  he 
saw  they  were  thinnest  and  composed  entirely  of  men. 
The  stern  look  in  his  face  for  a  moment  changed  to  a 
look  of  gratitude;  it  was  no  longer  necessary  to  trample 
down,  or  to  do  horrible,  nay,  shameful,  battle  with 
women,  and  from  such  a  contest  his  soul  revolted,  even 
though  these  women  were  unsexed  hags,  furies  who 
were  seeking  his  life. 

Tightening  his  rein,  he  gave  the  spur  to  his  horse, 
but  in  the  very  act  of  a  leap  it  fell  backward. 

A  pang  shot  through  Belmore's  heart.  To  lose  his 
horse  now  was  to  lose  his  life,  to  be  torn  to  pieces  by 
those  vultures  in  human  shapes.  Could  it  be  that  some 
demon  had  driven  a  knife  into  its  vitals? 

Turning  in  his  saddle,  he  saw,  with  a  throb  of  joy, 
the  burly  foundryman  tugging  and  dragging  at  the  tail 
of  the  horse.  There  was  a  crescent  of  light,  as  his  sword 
buried  itself  in  the  neck  of  the  ruffian,  and  at  the  same 
moment  his  horse  bounded'  forward. 

Fearful  cries  followed  this  leap,  for  the  merciless 
hoofs  had  hurled  down  and  trampled  upon  three  of  the 
wretches  who  had  tried  to  seize  their  prey.  But  again 
the  spurs  were  driven  into  the  smoking  flanks,  and  two 
more  frantic  leaps  of  the  straining  and  now  thoroughly 
frightened  animal  bore  down  the  struggling  madmen  in 
front.  The  yells  of  agon)'  and  fury  that  rose  from  their 
mangled  throats  were  appalling;  but,  instead  of  affright- 
ing those  who  had  escaped,  the  cries  of  the  wounded 
only  increased  their  rage.  They  surged  forward;  a  living 
wall  surrounded  the  horseman,  a  sea  of  demoniac  faces 
glared  into  his,  and  a  forest  of  arms,  with  fingers  and 
talons  spread  like  knotted  branches,  swayed  above  their 
uncouthed  heads. 

Sir   Philip   urged   his   steed    forward;  but   while   it 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  155 

bravely  responded,  it  forced  its  way  but  a  foot  at  a  time 
The  moments  were  passing,  and  each  moment  was  bring- 
ing to  Belmore,  nearer  and  nearer,  a  horrible  death. 

Again  he  rose  in  his  stirrups;  again  he  sent  his  warn- 
ing, trumpet-like  and  stern,  to  the  foes  in  front  of  and 
around  him.  Then,  as  he  plied  the  spurs  once  more,  he 
turned  a  trifle  toward  the  left,  and  gave  them  the  sword. 
Blow  after  blow,  directed  with  the  celerity  of  lightning, 
the  precision  of  fate,  cut  them  down,  through  skull  and 
brisket,  mowing  a  red  lane  as  he  advanced. 

He  had  neared  the  front  of  the  mob  ;  he  could  see, 
through  the  thickening  mist,  the  broad  open  way  beyond 
for  a  moment  as  the  breeze  lifted  the  white  veil.  A 
few  more  leaps  and  he  should  be  out  of  that  living  hell. 

At  the  instant  he  was  preparing  for  the  last  super, 
human  effort  his  ears  were  pierced  by  a  shriek  from  his 
horse,  almost  human  in  its  agony;  it  sprang  into  the  air, 
and  fell  quivering  to  the  ground  in  the  midst  of  the 
howling  throng. 

One  of  the  miscreants  had  driven  a  pike  into  its 
bowels. 

Sir  Philip  was  thrown  forward,  but  alighted  on  his 
feet,  still  grasping  his  sword,  and  without  an  instant's 
hesitation  he  began  to  use  it.  Thus  far  his  dauntless 
courage,  his  remarkable  skill,  his  wonderful  presence  of 
mind,  had  preserved  his  life  among  a  thousand  perils, 
that,  like  living  things,  had  leaped  around  him;  but 
now,  unhorsed,  alone,  hemmed  in  by  innumerable  ene- 
mies, whose  foul  and  heated  breath  suffocated  him,  what 
chance  had  he  for  life  ? 

One  man  to  a  thousand  demons  ! 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE    RESCUERS. 

When  Sir  Philip  Belmore  stopped  in  the  midst  of 
the  mob  to  question  the  workman,  he  was  already  some 
paces  behind  his  party.  His  brothers  were  conversing 
with  Dumesnil,  and  these  three  were  riding  abreast,  as 
were  the  three  valets  close  behind  them.  The  anxiety 
of  Sir  Philip  to  ascertain  the  meaning  of  this  march  to 
Versailles,  and  which  we  shall  hereafter  justify,  was  not 
shared  by  his  companions,  and  they  only  desired  to 
extricate  themselves  from  the  malodorous  throng  as 
soon  as  possible.  They  had  therefore  pushed  vigorously 
ahead,  being  particularly  careful  not  to  injure  the 
ragged  creatures  who  were  constantly  darting  in  front 
of  or  under  the  legs  of  their  horses.  They  lost  nothing 
by  their  prudence;  no  opposition  was  offered  them,  and 
much  to  their  relief,  they  were  soon  clear  of  the  multi- 
tude. They  had  thus  far  felt  no  concern  for  their  own 
safety  nor  for  his,  since  the  rioters  had  shown  no  hos- 
tility towards  them,  and  they  knew  nothing  of  Sir 
Philip's  collision  with  the  workman. 

When  about  one  hundred  yards  in  advance  of  the 
columns  they  looked  back,  and  to  their  surprise  saw 
nothing  of  Sir  Philip.  The  insurgents  at  that  moment 
exhibited  only  a  sea  of  heads,  above  which  the  horse- 
men could  perceive — nothing.  The  rain  had  changed 
into  a  thick  and  chill  mist,  which  at  first  had  settled  on 
the  warm  ground,  but  was  now  being  lifted  by  the 
breeze,  and  wreathing  itself  around  the  heads  and 
bodies  of  the  marching  columns.  Soon  nothing  could 

156 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  I$7 

be  seen  of  these  columns  but  irregular  and  fantastically 
outlined  shapes  that  were  moving  hither  and  thither  in 
all  directions — except  that  of  Versailles.  Apparently  the 
masses  were  pressing  toward  the  center.  These  singu- 
lar movements,  coupled  with  the  absolute  disappear- 
ance of  Sir  Philip,  at  once  excited  the  alarm  of  his 
friends,  which  was  soon  increased  by  terrific  yells,  curses, 
groans  and  shrieks,  which  now  began  to  issue  out  of  the 
fog. 

As  these  ominous  sounds  were  now  borne  forward 
to  them  on  the  wind,  Guppy  suddenly  cried, 

"  Gen'l'men  all!  Them  wegrants  air  'avin'  a  scrim- 
mage, and  my  master's  in  the  thick  'o  it.  H'i'm  after 
'im!  "  And  with  violent  objurgations  upon  his  'orse 
that  wouldn't  pick  hup  its  legs,  he  immediately  started 
toward  the  scene  of  the  supposed  melee. 

The  same  impulse  had  seized  the  rest  of  the  party; 
and  giving  rein  to  their  horses  they  rapidly  galloped 
back. 

As  they  came  nearer,  Dumesnil  thought  he  dis- 
tinguished the  voice  of  Sir  Philip  above  the  now  horri- 
ble din;  and,  realizing  the  imminent  peril  in  which  the 
latter  was  now  undoubtedly  placed,  he  struck  the  spurs 
into  the  flanks  and  bounded  at  the  living  barrier  that 
loomed  directly  in  front  of  him. 

"  Make  way  !  "  roared  he,  uprearing  his  colossal  form 
in  the  saddle,  and  drawing  his  enormous  sword  from  its 
scabbard. 

Thus  adjured,  and  astonished  by  this  gigantic  appa- 
rition, which  they  could  only  dimly  see  rising  up  through 
the  mist,  the  barrier  gave  way,  leaving  a  gap  through 
which  the  horsemen  effected  an  entrance.  But  the  rent 
was  instantly  closed  behind  them;  and,  before  they 
realized  their  terrible  position,  they  looked  upon  a  com- 
pact, unbroken  sea  of  upturned  faces,  livid  with  fury 


158  HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR. 

they  felt  the  nervous  clutch  of  countless  hands,  like  the 
arms  of  the  octopus,  stretched  toward  them  to  drag 
them  from  their  saddles  into  the  maw  of  death. 

Dumesnil's  companions  were,  like  himself,  armed 
with  swords;  but  the  valets  had  only  their  whips.  These 
implements,  however,  were  in  the  hands  of  their  skillful 
and  active  owners,  and  were  to  prove  almost  as  effective 
as  the  steel.  Made  of  tough  thongs  of  leather,  plaited 
tightly  together,  and  attached  to  the  wrist  by  leather 
loops,  these  whips  were  formidable  weapons;  and  the 
valets  showed  their  disposition  to  use  them,  as  they 
raised  them  above  their  heads  and  rode  fearlessly  into 
the  ranks  of  the  infuriated  rioters. 

Suddenly,  the  same  bewildering  question  rose  to  the 
minds  of  the  six  horsemen — in  which  direction  was  Sir 
Philip?  The  thick  mist  had  wrapped  everything  in  an 
impenetrable  shroud;  and  while  they  dared  not  remain 
for  an  instant  in  the  same  spot,  they  knew  not  in  which 
portion  of  the  forest  of  bodies  to  begin  their  search. 

While  they  hesitated,  a  clarion-like  voice  within 
twenty  feet  of  them,  rose  out  of  the  tumult  : 

"  Back,  assassins,  or  you  die!  " 

It  was  at  that  instant  that  Belmore  had  begun  to 
attack  those  in  front  of  him,  over  the  body  of  his  fallen 
horse.  Nothing  of  this  could,  of  course,  be  seen  by 
his  friends,  but  they  comprehended  none  the  less  clearly 
the  necessity  for  quick  and  desperate  action  on  their 
own  part. 

Dumesnil's  lion-like  voice  rose  to  its  full  pitch  as  he 
shouted : 

"  Forward!    and  keep  close  together." 

Simultaneously,  the  six  rescuers,  in  close  rank, 
plunged  forward  into  the  very  arms  of  the  howling 
wretches  who  were  crowding  in  front  of  them  to  arrest 
their  progress.  But  Dumesnil,  in  the  weird  obscurity 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  159 

of  the  mist  which  enveloped  him,  appeared  like  a  mov- 
ing tower;  while  his  horse,  a  huge  and  powerful  Nor- 
man, loomed  out  of  its  white  shroud  like  some  gigantic 
and  fabled  monster.  Unmoved  by  the  pandemonium 
around  it,  it  bore  its  ponderous  rider  irresistibly 
forward,  overturning  and  trampling  as  it  went,  the 
two  striking  terror  every  instant  into  the  hearts  of 
those  they  encountered.  Close  at  his  side  rode  the 
brothers,  and  behind  them  the  three  valets  who  were 
using  their  terrible  whips  at  every  step  upon  the  scowl- 
ing faces  of  those  who  came  within  their  reach.  At 
every  step,  indeed,  a  sooty  hand  was  thrust  out  to  grasp 
their  bridles,  or,  clutching  at  their  limbs,  attempt- 
ing to  pull  them  from  their  seats.  The  usually 
mild  blue  eyes  of  Guppy  were  blazing,  but  not  a  sound 
escaped  his  lips;  only  a  smile  parted  them,  a  smile  of 
intense  bitterness.  Sir  Philip  was  his  idol;  and  Guppy 
was  picturing  to  himself,  repeatedly,  as  he  rode  forward, 
the  horrible  possibility  of  finding  that  idol,  in  a  few, 
minutes  more,  battered  into  an  unrecognizable  heap,  or 
pierced  with  forks  and  pikes,  and — dead. 

These  reflections  maddened  the  honest  valet  until 
he  scarce  resembled  himself,  and  his  two  companions 
glanced  at  him  with  astonishment.  His  whip  hissed  in 
the  air,  and  cracked  like  pistol  shots  in  the  faces  of 
those  who  pressed  upon  him,  at  every  step  of  his  horse. 

Men  and  women  were  now  intermingled  in  one 
writhing  swarm,  surrounding  the  horsemen  and  crowd- 
ing against  the  flanks  of  their  reeking  steeds  with  reck- 
less determination  and  mad  ferocity.  The  iron  hoofs, 
the  keen  sword-blades,  the  scorpion-like  lashes,  now 
every  instant  descending  upon  their  heads  and  limbs, 
were  making  fearful  havoc  among  them;  but  instead  of 
abating  their  fury  they  augmented  it. 

Guided  by  the  singular  commotion  that   proceeded 


l6o  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

from  the  spot  where  Sir  Philip  fought  alone  and  on  foot, 
his  friends  continued  to  force  their  desperate  way;  and 
in  a  few  minutes — which  to  him  and  them  seemed  never- 
ending — they  burst  into  the  cramped  arena,  where  they 
found  him  wielding  a  dripping  sword  with  one  hand, 
and  with  the  other  forcing  back  the  assailants,  who  were 
fast  closing  in  upon  him. 

Guppy  was  the  first  to  reach  his  side.  Uttering  a 
terrific  cry  the  moment  he  espied  his  master,  a  cry  of 
mingled  rage  and  delight,  he  had  lashed  his  horse  into 
a  frenzy,  driving  it  forward  through  the  infernal  mass. 
Crushing,  killing,  mangling,  his  frantic  steed  'carried 
him  forward,  while  he  plied  his  formidable  whip  with 
fearful  effect.  Springing  from  his  saddle,  he  thrust  the 
bridle-rein  over  the  left  arm  of  his  master  and  shouted: 

"Give  me  your  place,  Sir  Philip,  and  take  mine!  " 

The  tones  of  Guppy's  voice  were  joyous;  they  could 
not  have  been  more  so  if  he  had  suddenly  found  him- 
self in  an  English  forest,  face  to  face  with  the  antlered 
game  his  master  loved  to  hunt. 

Sir  Philip  flashed  upon  his  follower  a  glance  which 
thrilled  him.  "Well  done,  my  lad!  "he  panted;  and, 
with  extreme  difficulty  vaulting  into  the  saddle: 

"  Here,"  he  called  breathlessly;  "mount  behind  me 
— quick! " 

But  Guppy  was  already  occupied,  and  busily  so. 

"I've  some  vork  to  do  'ere  first,  Sir,"  responded  he, 
setting  about  it  with  both  of  his  exceedingly  hard  and 
vigorous  fists. 

But  in  spite  of  this  cheerful  disposition,  the  death 
which  until  now  had  threatened  the  master  would 
assuredly  have  overtaken  the  servant,  had  not  Dumesnil 
been  near  at  hand.  While  Sir  Philip  was  engaged  in  an 
attempt  to  widen  the  space  around  the  party,  aided  by 
his  brothers,  a  man  of  muscular  frame  and  the  most 


HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR.  l6l 

x 

brutal  aspect  forced  his  way  to  the  spot.  It  was  the 
ruffian  whom  Sir  Philip  had  accosted,  the  direct  instiga- 
tor of  the  affray.  In  his  blackened  hands  he  carried  a 
rusty  pike  which  he  levelled  at  Guppy,  whose  back  was 
at  that  moment  turned  to  him,  and  lunged  forward, 
shouting  hoarsely: 

"  Down  with  the  slaves  of  the  aristocrats!  Oh,  we 
will  have  bread  to  eat,  or  we  will  have  blood  to  drink, 
pardieu." 

"Drink  your  own,  then  scoundrel!"  thundered 
Dumesnil,  bringing  his  sword  down  upon  the  ruffian's 
right  shoulder,  and  literally  cleaving  him  to  the  heart. 
With  a  yell  of  agony,  he  tumbled  between  the  forelegs 
of  the  Captain's  horse,  which  at  the  same  instant  set  its 
huge  hoof  upon  his  head,  crushing  it  into  hideous  shape- 
lessness. 

"Sacre,"  growled  Dumesnil,  now  seizing  the  pugilist 
under  an  arm  and  lifting  him  from  his  feet,  "spring  up 
behind  me,  ass, 'for  your  life!  " 

Guppy,  somewhat  astonished,  and  rather  cooled  by 
this  narrow  escape,  snatched  the  pike  from  his  dead 
enemy,  and  with  surprising  agility  leaped  to  the  crup- 
per of  Dumesnil's  saddle,  barely  escaping  a  vicious  blow 
from  a  butcher's  cleaver. 

The  situation  of  the  seven  horsemen  was  now  appall- 
ing. Hundreds  were  crowding  toward  them;  every 
second  naiTowed  the  little  space  in  which  they  kept 
their  weapons  incessantly  playing.  If  hemmed  in  as 
closely  here  as  Sir  Philip  had  been  they  were  certainly 
lost;  their  horses  would  be  as  incapable  of  motion  as  if 
encased  in  iron.  They  must  force  themselves  out  of 
that  seething  hell,  without  pausing  for  a  single  instant 
on  the  terrible  path,  blocked  though  it  was  with  human 
bodies.  To  halt  would  be  fatal;  to  fail  was  to  be  torn 
limb  from  limb. 


162  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

Dumesnil's  great  eyes  described  a  circle.  They 
seemed  to  devour  the  whole  terrible  throng,  to  pierce 
the  fog  which  lay  like  a  pall  over  it.  To  the  left,  in 
the  direction  of  Versailles,  it  appeared  thinnest.  .The 
rabble  had  rushed  from  that  direction  at  the  beginning 
of  the  affray,  and  the  impetus  had  carried  them  mostly 
to  the  right  of  the  spot  where  Sir  Philip  had  made  his 
stand. 

"  It  is  a  hole  to  crawl  through,"  muttered  the  giant; 
"  Mon  Dieu,  yes,  if  it  is  not  compressed  too  soon." 

The  horsemen  had  formed  a  circle,  the  flanks  of  their 
horses  touching;  and  every  moment  one  of  them  was 
obliged  to  leap  forward  to  force  back  or  cut  down  an 
approaching  rioter.  Horses,  riders,  all  were  beginning 
to  feel  the  effect  of  such  exercise.  - 

"We  must  get  out  of  this,"  muttered  Sir  Phillip, 
who  had  received  a  severe  blow  in  the  side,  and  was 
evidently  in  a  far  worse  plight  than  either  he  or  his 
friends  imagined. 

Dumesnil  had  already  decided.  He  pointed  toward 
the  left,  where  the  fog  was  lifting.  Beyond — not  more 
than  twenty  paces  from  them — the  open  road  swept  on 
to  Versailles. 

"Wheel — on  my  left — into  line!"  shouted  Dumesnil; 
and  with  his  heavy  sword  he  described  a  swath  around 
him.  The  mob  recoiled,  and  left  them  with  a  dozen 
feet  of  ground. 

"  Foward,  and  ride  close. " 

Both  these  quick  commands  were  as  quickly  obeyed. 
In  one  impervious  line  they  dashed  toward  the  rift, 
which  at  that  supreme  moment  seemed  to  their  eager 
eyes  an  outlet  to  Heaven. 

Surprise  and  consternation  at  this  sudden  onset  held 
back  the  few  who  blocked  the  way  in  that  direction; 
and,  although  the  respite  was  brief,  it  was  enough.  Be- 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  163 

fore  the  mob  could  rally,  a  bloody  lane  had  opened, 
mowed  by  the  terrible  cavalcade  as  it  passed  on  and  out 
like  a  whirlwind.  Missiles  and  maledictions  followed 
the  horsemen  as  they  sped  onward,  until  they  could  hear 
nothing  but  a  sullen  hum  behind  them. 

As  soon  as  they  slackened  their  pace  attention  was 
given  to  Sir  Philip,  whose  condition  certainly  appeared 
to  require  it.  His  clothing  hung  about  him  in  tatters, 
and  he  had  lost  his  hat.  He  had  received  numerous 
and  violent  kicks  about  the  limbs,  a  heavy  blow  in 
the  side,  and  many  severe  bruises  on  his  arms.  Besides, 
he  was  fearfully  exhausted  ;  and  now  that  the  neces- 
sity for  extraordinary  exertion  no  longer  existed,  he 
drooped  in  his  saddle,  and  the  pallor  of  his  face 
increased. 

Nothing  short  of  his  inflexible  will  could  have  kept 
him  on  his  horse  during  the  remainder  of  that  anxious 
journey.  It  was  fully  an  hour  and  a  half  before  they  rode 
up  to  the  royal  stables  at  Versailles.  They  were  a  sorry 
looking  party,  and  they  preferred  not  to  present  them- 
selves at  the  Palace  in  such  a  plight.  But  as  they 
passed  the  esplanade  in  front  of  the  gates,  Sir  Philip 
was  recognized  by  an  officer  who  was  watching  the 
maneuvres  of  a  company  of  guards  in  the  Royal  Square. 
The  officer  immediately  detected,  and  evidently  guessed 
the  cause  of,  the  disordered  appearance  of  the  party. 
He  hurried  after  them  at  once;  and  so  warmly  did  he 
press  upon  them  the  temporary  use  of  his  apartments, 
which  were  within  a  short  distance  of  the  Chateau,  that 
Sir'  Philip  gratefully  accepted  his  hospitality.  An 
equerry  took  charge  of  the  horses,  and  the  valets  were 
carried  off  by  some  of  the  servants  at  the  stables  to  their 
own  quarters,  and  there  left  to  themselves. 

After  these  dispositions,  Sir  Philip,  accompanied  by 
his  tired  companions,  and  almost  sinking  under  fatigue, 


164  HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR. 

as  well  as  acute  physicial  pain,  entered  the  officer's 
apartments.  Here  the  court  physician  came  to  him, 
sent,  he  said,  by  Mademoiselle  Sainte  Maur,  with  the 
consent  of  the  Queen,  and  with  instructions  not  to 
permit  him  to  appear  out  of  his  chamber  until  he  had 
received  proper  treatment  and  obtained  rest.  Grateful 
for  this  unlooked-for  attention,  Sir  Philip  still  refused  to 
be  "  coddled,"  as  he  termed  it,  until  he  learned  that  the 
approach  of  the  Amazons  was  already  known,  and  that 
no  danger  to  the  inmates  of  the  Chateau  was  possible. 
Then  he  lay  down,  not  to  sleep,  but  to  listen  to  the 
coming  of  the  mob. 

He  had  not  long  to  wait. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

MARIE    ANTOINETTE. 

Marie  Antoinette,  amiable,  if  frivolous;  beautiful  and 
imprudent;  intelligent,  graceful,  affectionate;  of  noble 
blood  and  bearing,  was  the  invited  guest  of  France. 
France,  styling  itself  the  most  chivalrous  nation  in 
Europe,  despising  the  simplicity  of  her  nature,  perse- 
cuted her,  then  insulted  her,  and  finally  murdered  her. 

This  unfortunate  Queen  had  come  to  the  artificial 
Court  of  France  a  warm-hearted  girl,  with  an  innocent 
disposition  to  avoid  the  strained  and  hypocritical  usages 
she  found  there,  and  with  a  precocious  desire  to  reform 
the  Court  itself.  At  once  ingenuous  and  imprudent,  she 
was  not  long  in  committing  errors  of  judgment  which 
were  eagerly  seized  upon  by  the  malignants  who  sur- 
rounded her,  as  weapons  with  which  to  destroy  her. 

She  saw  so  much  that  was  stilted  and  ridiculous  in 
the  manners  of  the  ladies  whose  duties  kept  them  near 
her,  that,  until  she  became  accustomed  to  the  spectacle, 
it  excited  in  her  the  most  intense  amusement,  which  she 
unguardedly  permitted  the  grotesque  performers  to  see. 
She  encouraged  the  younger  and  fresher  spirits  among 
them  to  abandon  many  absurd  traditions  in  habits  and 
dress;  but  the  older  dames  resented  these  little  innova- 
tions as  insults,  and  they  began  a  system  of  repression 
that  soon  grew  to  persecution.  They  set  themselves  to 
work,  as  only  women  can,  to  make  her  unpopular  with 
the  "  people "  (at  that  period  bigoted,  ignorant  and 
vicious,)  and  they  were  marvelously  successful.  Every 
frivolous  act,  every  harmless  speech,  was  purposely 

165 


l66  HELENE    SAIXTK    MAUR. 

misrepresented  or  misconstrued,  by  the  volatile  but 
envious  parasites  of  the  Court.  In  short,  it  was  not 
long  ere  the  inconstant  populace  which  had  welcomed 
her  with  groveling  adulation  and  idiotic  joy,  began  to 
pelt  her  with  epithets,  and  ended  in  gratifying  their 
insensate  hate  in  her  deliberate  assassination. 

The  lofty  position  occupied  by  the  Queen  kept  her 
aloof  fiom  ordinary  sympathy — which  every  woman,  no 
matter  what  her  degree,  requires — and  isolated  her  from 
all  companionship,  except  that  which  she  sought  in 
defiance  of  the  pretended  restrictions  which  her  wigged 
and  painted  advisers  constantly  cited  to  her.  With  the 
exception  of  the  Princess  Lambelle  (who  subsequently 
lost  her  own  life  in  consequence  of  her  devotion  to  her 
royal  mistress)  and  one  or  two  others  of  rank  sufficient 
to  justify  her  in  having  them  near  her,  she  counted  but 
few,  indeed,  in  whom  she  could  repose  confidence,  or 
with  whom  she  could  even  informally  converse  without 
being  subjected  to  the  impudent  espionage  and  sneers 
of  the  paupers  who  swarmed  about  the  Court. 

Among  the  few  friends  that  were  left  to  her  at  this 
eventful  time  was  Helene  Sainte  Maur.  The  wealth, 
beauty,  mental  gifts  and  patrician  birth  of  our  heroine 
had  kept  the  doors  of  the  noblesse  open  to  her,  even 
after  they  were  closed  to  the  noblest  of  those  who  were 
of  different  political  faith  or  purpose.  The  Queen, 
therefore,  had  many  opportunities  to  become  familiar 
with  Helene's  character;  and  the  great  contrast  which 
she  observed  between  this  beautiful  woman's  moral 
nature  and  that  of  the  women  with  whom  she  mingled 
in  the  society  of  the  Court  drew  the  sovereign  to  the 
subject,  until  a  mutual  attachment  resulted;  an  attach- 
ment as  remarkable  as  it  proved  imperishable. 

About  a  fortnight  previous  to  the  descent  of  the 
Amazons  upon  Versailles,  the  Queen  had  extended  an 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  1 67 

invitation  to  Helene  to  spend  a  few  weeks  at  the  palace, 
and  Helene  was  still  there. 

The  visit  of  Sir  Philip  Belmore  to  Versailles  at  this 
time  was  on  Helene's  account  particularly,  although  he 
had  often  been  a  guest  there  before,  and  was  on  friendly 
terms  with  Servan,  then  Governor  of  the  Pages,  and  the 
most  powerful  personage  at  the  chateau,  and  also  with 
several  others  of  the  King's  household.  It  was  Helene's 
presence  in  the  palace,  therefore,  which  had  caused  him  so 
much  concern  when  he  encountered  the  rabble  and  learned 
the  purpose  of  their  descent  upon  the  palace.  After 
that  encounter  and  his  escape  he  had  felt  doubly  anxious 
to  see  her;  and  if  danger  threatened  her  to  share  it  with 
her,  if  he  could  not  avert  it.  Besides,  he  had  determined 
to  plead  with  her,  as  he  had  plead  with  her  before,  to 
leave  Paris,  to  leave  France.  He  was  anxious,  as  were 
his  brothers,  and  as  was  Dumesnil,  to  depart  from  scenes 
that  were  daily  assuming  a  more  alarming  aspect;  and 
if  he  could  induce  Helene  to  forego  her  desire  to  remain 
near  the  Queen,  and  remove  for  awhile  to  England,  his 
heart,  he  felt,  would  be  lighter  than  it  had  ever  been. 

Upon  communicating  with  the  surgeon,  whom 
Helene  had  sent  to  him  with  the  Queen's  permission, 
as  soon  as  she  had  learned  of  his  arrival  and  condi- 
tion, he  had  received  assurances,  as  we  have  seen,  that 
the  mob  was  expected  at  the  chateau,  that  no  danger 
had  been  anticipated,  and  that  all  necessary  precau- 
tions to  prevent  any  had  already  been  taken.  It  was 
only  another  attempt,  said  the  officer  who  had  kindly 
placed  his  rooms  at  Sir  Philip's  service,  to  force  impos- 
sible concessions  from  the  King,  another  method  of  the 
revolutionists  to  annoy  the  royal  family.  Hardly  satis- 
fied, from  what  he  saw,  that  all  this  was  true,  he  had 
reluctantly  yielded  to  the  advice  of  the  physician  and 
the  urgent  entreaties  of  his  brothers,  and  had  retired  to 


1 68  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

a  couch,  after  sending  a  message  to  Helene  that  she 
should  at  once  apprise  him  if  she  needed  him,  and  exact- 
ing a  promise  from  his  three  companions  that  they  would 
not  leave  the  palace  during  the  remainder  of  the  day. 

Within  an  hour  after  these  preliminaries,  the  mob 
arrived.  The  van  was  composed  entirely  of  women,  hid- 
eous, unkempt,  haggard  and  fierce.  At  their  head 
marched  twelve  forlorn  and  famished  creatures,  led  by 
a  red-faced  and  bulky  woman,  a  butcher's  wife,  selected 
for  her  brawn  and  boldness  to  lead  this  forlorn  hope. 
In  the  rear,  straggling  along  in  two  meandering  lines, 
came  several  hundred  boys  and  men,  the  refuse  of  the 
sewer-hiding  class,  who  halted  near  the  esplanade,  where 
they  gathered  in  groups  to  watch  the  movements  of  the 
women,  and  encourage  them  with  their  cries  and  invect- 
ives. 

In  the  royal  square  the  band  of  termagants  came  to 
a  halt.  They  were  no  longer  vociferating,  their  hoarse 
or  shrill  voices  were  subdued  to  a  murmer.  Then  an 
internal  agitation  of  the  mass,  and  out  of  its  midst 
stalked  the  thirteen — the  "committee  "  and  its  leader. 

It  may  be  said  in  parenthesis  here  that  Louis  XVI. 
was  no  longer  master  at  Versailles  any  more  than  he 
was  at  Paris;  otherwise,  the  disgraceful  and  humiliating 
scenes  that  now  transpired,  and  which  were  the  mere 
precursors  of  worse  to  follow,  could  never  have  occurred. 

The  iron  palisades  gaped  before  the  invaders,  offer- 
ing an  easy  entrance,  and  no  one  was  there  to  oppose 
them.  They  passed  on  to  the  outer  court,  into  the 
second,  now  mounting  the  five  steps  that  led  to  the 
third,  then  up  the  broad  marble  staircase  they  clam- 
bered, still  unopposed,  four  abreast.  At  the  landing 
they  turned  toward  the  King's  apartments,  directed 
thither  by  a  National  Guard. 

The  Guard  was  slinking  away,  when,  repenting,  per- 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  169 

haps,  of  his  o\vn  brutal  perfidy,  he  turned  and  faced  the 
"committee."  . 

"  What  is  it  you  want  here,  my  friends?"  asked  he,  in 
a  mild  voice. 

The  butcher's  wife  turned  upon  him: 

"What  is  it  we  want,  eh?"  screamed  she,  clawing 
the  air  with  her  red  fingers;  "  come,  listen  to  this  pretty 
fellow,  this  flaneur  who  wears  fine  livery  in  the  barracks 
as  well  as  on  the  boulevarts!  Do  you  sae  him?  I  warrant 
you,  now,  he  sups  every  Saturday  night  with  Chopine." 

Then,  inflamed  by  these  tantalizing  reflections, 
(for  by  "  Chopine"  she  meant  a  female  tippler,  and  she 
herself  was  a  lov'er  of  the  bottle)  she  approached  the 
disconcerted  soldier  with  arms  akimbo,  and  vociferated 
in  his  face: 

"  Peste,  idiot!  Do  you  think  we  would  be  out  in  the 
rain,  three  leagues  from  an  umbrella,  if  we  had  our 
dinner  in  the  cellar  at  home,  or  something  better  than 
rainwater  for  soup  and  paving-stones  for  bread?  You 
crab!  You — you  are  lisse;  you  do  not  eat  here — you 
devour;  your  teeth  you  do  not  use  at  all,  and  you  do 
not  know  truffles  from  meat.  How  many  bottles  of  red 
Frontinac  have  warmed  your  brains  since  yesterday, 
tell  me  that?" 

"Vache!"  exclaimed  the  soldier,  in  a  heat  at  this 
tirade. 

"What?"  screamed  the  termagant,  dartingher  fist 
at  his  face;  "you  call  me  a  cow,  do  you — you  ass!  Ah, 
toad,  let  me  hear  you  croak!  "  And  before  the  unlucky 
meddler  could  slip  away,  she  had  grasped  him  by  the 
throat,  while  the  twelve  closed  in  around  him,  uttering 
encouraging  cries. 

"  Now,  let  us  hear  you  sing.  We  want  the  King,  and 
you  tell  us  to  go  through  that  gallery  and  through  a 
hall,  and  so  on.  Look  here,  we  are  not  fools;  we  do  not 


170  HELEN-E   SAINTE    MAUR. 

intend  to  be  trapped  like  rats.  We  are  in  a  hurry.  We 
have  left  our  brats  at  home  gnawing  their  thumbs,  do 
you  hear?" 

"Bread — bread  and  rice!"  wailed  the  "committee," 
huddling  around  the  leader.  "Dame!"  growled  the 
soldier,  who  had  succeeded  in  freeing  his  throat  from 
the  lusty  virago's  by  no  means  gentle  hands;  "the  King 
does  not  keep  a  baker's  shop." 

"  But  he  has  the  keys  to  them,"  retorted  the  woman; 
and  she  stretched  forth  her  hands  to  clutch  the  epau- 
lette of  the  guardsman.  But  he  had  already  edged 
himself  out  of  the  group,  and  with  a  shrug  of  disgust 
he  incontinently  retreated,  leaving  the'women  to  them- 
selves. 

Thus  encouraged,  they  rushed  into  the  "Hall  of 
Guards,"  tearing  at  the  uniforms  of  the  few  gens  d'armes 
there;  then  into  the  King's  public  dining-room;  then  on 
into  the  very  bed  chamber.  « 

And  here  their  rage  found  the  very  fuel  that  Dude- 
vant's  devilish  intention  had  provided  for  it. 

The  great  crimson  velvet  bed  (upon  which  Louis  the 
Grand  had  reposed),  with  its  rich  embroidered  damask, 
stood  behind  the  gilded  balustrade  where  bishops  had 
leaned  over  expiring  royalty,  in  a  sumptuous  alcove, 
sacred  to  majesty.  The  sight  of  its  stately  magnificence 
awed  the  invaders,  but  it  frenzied  them  also.  Never  had 
they  been  where  royalty  lodged  till  now,  never  till  now 
had  they  dreamed  how  royalty  slept.  It  was  a  revela- 
tion, and  their  rude  minds,  still  bound  by  superstition 
which  held  them  back  from  profaning  these  inner  pre- 
cincts of  royalty,  flew  to  their  own  beds  of  straw  rotting 
in  mouldy  cellars,  and  they  gnashed  their  teeth  as  they 
looked. 

But  royalty's  self  was  not  there;  and  they  scurried 
like  rats  into  the  great  gallery,  the  CEil  de  Bceuf,  the 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  171 

"Bull's  Eye,"   that   stateliest  of    halls,  and   there  they 
found  him,  this  poor  hunted  King,  cornered  at  last. 

Royalty  expected  this  unceremonious  visit,  and  roy- 
alty was  urbane  and  gracious,  in  its  miserable  impo- 
tency.  Promises  were  offered  in  lieu  of  bread  and  rice 
and  meat;  and,  as  these  are  easy  enough  to  carry,  the 
twelve  petitioners  started  briskly  to  return  to  their  con- 
stituents without.  But  the  butcher's  wife  was  not  to  be 
thus  cajoled.  She  stopped  her  too-confiding  sisters  with 
a  gesture  of  command,  which  they  passively  obeyed, 
the  hopeless  expression  which  had  a  moment  before  left 
their  wan  faces  returning  again  to  them.  They  were 
so  used  to  disappointments,  these  miserable  creatures, 
who  had  fulfilled  too  well  that  duty  which  afterwards 
the  great  Bonaparte  said  was  imperatively  theirs — to 
bear  children;  and  now  they  had  nothing  wherewith  to 
feed  their  offspring — those  voluntary  offerings  to  France, 
who  was  always  calling  for  soldiers  to  keep  alive  its  pre- 
carious glory. 

In  silence  these  women  waited,  while  the  butcher's 
wife,  who  had  meat  to  eat,  and  was  therefore  more  vig- 
orous than  they,  turned  upon  the  King  her  flaming  eyes, 
and,  all  unabashed  by  majesty,  shrilled  her  protest: 

"  Sacre  bleu!  And  do  you  think  to  feed  us  on  noth- 
ing better  than  tlmt  ?  We  shall  have  bread,  forsooth, 
the  charettes  shall  stop  carrying  aristocrats  to  the  guil- 
lotine, and  their  carrion  from  it,  and  shall  load  up  with 
bread  and  rice  and  meat,  eh?  To-morrow,  do  you  say? 
Oh,  yes,  to-morrow,  that  is  the  word.  Ho,  ho,  do  you 
hear  that,  my  children?  Well,  it  is  four  good  leagues  to 
Paris,  and  four  more  back  to  Versailles.  That  makes 
eight,  does  it  not?  Enough, ^is  it  not,  to  wear  our  legs 
to  the  stumps?  And  while  we  are  tramping  about, 
par  ci  and  par-la,  and  our  young  ones  are  eating  mud, 
you  will  fill  the  bellies  of  your  cannon  with  round  bis- 


172  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

cuit,  and  feed  them  to  us  across  the  Square  out  yonder 
when  we  come  back  here.  No,  no,  a  million  times  no,  I 
tell  you!  We  are  tired,  we  are  hungry,  we  want  bread 
to-day,  to-day,  do  you  understand?" 

"Bread,  bread,  bread,"  chorused  the  twelve,  in  woful 
concert.  Then  they  began  stamping  their  muddy  feet 
on  the  marble  pavement.  Hunger  has  reverence  for 
nothing,  do  you  see? 

The  King  was  distressed.  He  looked  around  him, 
as  if  seeking  some  one  to  whom  he  might  refer  this 
insolent  but  formidable  subject,  who  thus  braved  him 
in  his  own  palace. 

Such  an  one  was  near  at  hand. 

At  the  farther  end  of  the  gallery,  listening,  with 
glowing  cheeks  and  flashing  eyes,  to  this  humiliating 
dialogue,  stood  the  Queen  and  Helene  Sainte  Maur. 
As  the  woman  ended  her  speech,  the  sad  eyes  of  the 
King  were  turned  toward  his  indignant  consort,  as  she 
stood  immovable,  except  for  the  glancing  of  her  eye  as 
it  flitted  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  half  dozen  sullen 
gens  d'arms  who  had  been  sent  into  the  gallery. 

Suddenly,  and  without  a  word  to  the  Queen,  Hel- 
ene left  her  side  and  advanced  toward  the  leader  of  the 
women.  Beckoning  the  latter  imperiously  toward  a 
winclow  opening  on  the  long  balcony,  Helene  stepped 
out  upon  it,  and  a  moment  after  the  woman  followed 
her. 

Several  minutes  elapsed,  and  the  two  had  not 
returned.  The  twelve  grew  restless,  and  whispered 
together.  Was  that  majestic  woman  who  had  taken 
their  leader  away  the  Queen  ?  Ah,  she  appeared  more 
like  a  goddess,  a  celestial  or  a  saint.  She  had  given  a 
mute  sign  of  command  to  the  butcher's  wife,  who  feared 
nothing,  but  who  had  looked  startled  and  confused,  and 
had  obeyed  without  a  question.  They  were  becoming 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  173 

uneasy.  What  was  going  to  happen?  What  were  they 
to  do  without  their  chief  ? 

They  had  begun  to  raise  their  voices,  they  had 
started  toward  the  balcony  windows,  when  the  two 
women,  who  belonged  at  the  two  extreme  ends  of  the 
social  world,  came  in  from  the  portico  together.  The 
one  calm  and  majestic  and  silent ;  the  other  disturbed, 
embarrassed,  and  respectful. 

Without  looking  to  right  or  left,  tjie  butcher's  wife 
made  a  sign  to  the  twelve  to  follow  her,  and  in  silence 
they  crept  out  of  the  gallery. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

MIRABEAU. 

The  surprise  of  the  King,  and  the  gratitude  of  the 
Queen,  when  Helene  composedly  returned  to  the  latter's 
side,  were  profound  and  affecting.  They  did  not  ask 
her  how  she  had  so  mysteriously  but  summarily  relieved 
them  of  the  marauding  women;  they  only  pressed  her 
hands  in  silence,  and  then  they  separated. 

They  did  not  know  that  another  rabble  was  on  its 
way  to  Versailles,  that  it  would  soon  be  swarming  over 
the  vast  grounds  of  the  royal  seat,  waiting  for  night  to 
settle  down  ere  they  came  to  squat  at  the  gates  of  the 
palace,  to  inundate  the  hall  of  the  assembly  itself.  Ah, 
if  they  had  known! 

While  the  chateau  was  being  invaded  by  the  delega- 
tion of  fish-women,  Mirabeau  was  at  Versailles,  dining 
with  Servan,  in  the  latter's  apartments  in  the  Petites 
Ecuries.  Servan  was  hostile  to  the  Court  party, 
although  in  the  King's  household;  while  Mirabeau  was 
the  friend  of  the  Queen,  and  of  the  Monarchy.  From 
the  windows  of  the  chateau,  opening  on  the  Royal 
Square,  Mirabeau  stood  watching  the  approach  of 
the  mob.  He  had  heard  nothing  of  the  movement 
previous  to  his  arrival;  and  his  business  at  Versailles  was 
with  Servan,  whom  he  employed  often  in  the  capacity 
of  a  literary  assistant.  The  noise  had  drawn  him  to  the 
windows,  at  the  moment  that  a  page  from  the  Queen 
brought  him  a  sealed  billet.  Excusing  himself,  he 

174 


HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR.  175 

stepped  into  an  ante-room  and  opened  the  message.  It 
was  from  Helene  Sainte  Maur,  and  read: 

"  The  coming  of  the  mob  was  anticipated.  The  Flan- 
ders Regiment  and  the  National  Guards  have  been 
ordered  outside  of  the  palace  grounds;  the  cavalry  and 
infantry  of  the  King's  Guards  are  deploying  in  the 
court  yard  and  the  smaller  courts.  No  alarm  is  felt. 

"  I  have  information  that  the  Jacobins  are  sending 
another  rabble;  it  will  be  here  this  evening.  It  is  all 
because  of  the  banquet  given  on  the.ist.  to  the  officers 
of  the  new  (Flanders)  regiment,  by  the  officers  of  the 
King's  Bodyguards.  I  counselled  against  that  affair, 
but  it  was  simply  following  a  precedent,  and  the 
authors  of  it  insisted  on  giving  the  entertainment.  It 
has  insulted  the  Jacobins,  however,  and  there  is  excit- 
ment  in  Paris,  as  you  are  well  aware.  You  must  go  at 
once  to  the  Menus  Plaisirs,  and  use  your  power  to  calm 
the  storm  that  is  rising  there  in  the  Assembly.  If  the 
rabble  comes  into  collision  with  the  Court  and  the  Body- 
guards, the  result  will  be  calamitous.  Go,  my  friend; 
there  is  little  time,  and  it  is  precious." 

With  Mirabeau,  Helene's  influence  was  supreme ; 
besides,  he  was  deeply  distressed  at  the  news,  some  of 
which  had  already  reached  him  before  her  letter  had 
been  delivered  to  him.  He  hurried  to  the  Assembly. 

When  he  entered  the  hall,  his  ears  were  greeted  with 
the  sounds  of  babel.  Uncouth  sounds,  issuing  out  of 
the  hoarse  throats  of  boissardes,  market  porters,  tramps 
from  the  fields  and  outer  boulevards,  butchers  and  work- 
men from  St.  Antoine  and  St.  Marceau. 

When  the  "  committee  "  left  the  palace,  they  went  off 
in  the  direction  of  the  Menus  Plaisirs.  They  were  all 
empty-handed,  except  the  butchers'  wife,  whose  red 
fingers  clutched  a  scrap  of  paper  which  she  protected 


176  HF.LENE    SAIXTE    MAUR. 

from    the   rain  by  muffling  it  in  her  greasy  and  faded 
shawl. 

Mirabeau,  when  he  entered  the  hall,  saw  nothing  to 
excite  his  immediate  alarm,  and  went  to  his  place,  from 
which  he  began  to  harangue  the  Assembly.  The  galler- 
ies were  crowded  with  the  Paris  mob  of  women.  They 
sent  a  wail  down  into  the  ears  of  the  destroying  angels 
who  sat  below  them: 

"  Bread!     Bread!" 

It  was  a  doleful  cry;  it  was  a  supplication  and  a 
threat.  The  Assembly  stirred  uneasily.  A  gray-haired 
assassin  turned  in  his  seat,  and  whispered  to  his  col. 
league: 

"We  must  remove  more  Aristocrats." 

In  the  murderers'  dialect  of  the  Assembly,  to 
"remove  "  was  to  guillotine. 

Mirabeau  pauses  in  his  peroration,  shakes  his  mane, 
raises  his  senior's  voice  to  a  roar,  and  promises  his 
sisters — everything.  The  dripping  women  become  clac- 
quers,  this  "little  mother  Mirabeau,"  is  such  a  favorite 
now  with  the  people.  But  hunger,  that  crime-breeder, 
is  at  their  vitals  again;  and  Mirabeau  is  a  second  time' 
interrupted,  and  more  sharply  this  time,  because  it  is 
Famine  which  speaks: 

"Bread,  bread,  and  less  talk!" 

This  was  practical,  this  was  prosaic;  but,  as  the 
Assembly  dealt  only  in  metaphor — and  heads,  it  wisely 
adjourned. 

At  the  outer  entrance  stood  the  butcher's  wife;  and, 
as  Mirabeau  passed  out,  his  bloodshot  eyes  staring  at 
the  western  sun,  whose  rays  at  that  moment  were  break- 
ing through  the  clouds  and  gilding  the  front  of  the 
house  of  blood  and  the  house  of  God  with  the  same 
benign  ray,  the  woman  held  out  the  scrap  of  paper. 
Mirabeau  read  it,  and  his  face  became  illumined.  He 


HELENE    SAINTE    JUAUR.  177 

whispered  a  word  into  the  frowsy  ear  of  the  woman  and' 
hastened  away;  while  she,  still  retaining  the  slip  of 
paper,  returned  with  a  look  of  triumph  to  the  galleries 
where  her  companions  waited. 

Then  these  women  proceeded  to  hold  a  convention. 
It  was  a  conclave  of  the  Furies.  The  butcher's  wife 
pounced  upon  the  president's  chair;  and,  as  she  settled 
herself  in  it  with  a  grotesque  dignity,  she  shouted  to 
the  conclave: 

"  Order,  my  children ! " 

It  was  the  first  and  the  last  time  in  her  meagre  life 
that  she  was  too  feel  the  luxury  of  power;  but  she  had 
little  time  to  enjoy  it.  She  had  said  to  her  tatterdema- 
lion convention,  when  they  began  to  grow  boisterous — 
like  the  Assembly: 

"Wait,  and  you  will  see." 

And  the  "convention"  had  come  to  order,  and  could 
have  taught  the  Assembly  a  lesson  in  decorum. 

An  hour  passed;  so  did  sundry  resolutions,  clothed 
in  language  never  heard  in  that  hall  before  or  after.  At 
the  end  of  an  hour  Mirabeau  re-appeared.  Again  he 
whispered  in  the  ear  of  the  leader,  and  this  time  he  gave 
her  some  slips  of  paper;  after  which  he  went  away, 
smiling. 

The  butcher's  wife  abandoned  the  magisterial  curule, 
and  hurried  out  of  the  hall.  When  she  reached  the 
door,  however,  she  stopped,  turned  back,  and  with  the 
air  and  voice  of  a  mother  to  her  brood,  said: 

"Do  not  stir!  I  will  return." 

The  slips  which  she  carried  away  were  orders  on  the 
bakers,  the  grocers,  the  butchers.  Mirabeau  had  told 
her  where  to  present  them,  when  he  took  from  her  the 
paper  she  brought  from  the  palace. 

At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  the  curiosity  of  the  women 
had  become  almost  unbearable;  but  they  did  not  stir. 


178  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

At  the  end  of  an  hour  their  leader  returned,  and  found 
them  sitting  where  she  had  left  them. 

Then,  dry  groceries  took  the  place  of  debate,  provi- 
sions the  place  of  proclamations.  Thus  had  the  munifi- 
cence of  Helene  Sainte  Maur  found  its  way  to  the 
objects  of  her  pity,  through  the  heart  of  Mirabeau. 

The  provisions  are  brought  in  those  tumbrils  which 
have  so  recently  carried  different  fruit — the  fruit  of  the 
Revolution,  and  which  will  carry  it  again  to-morrow. 
But  hunger  is  not  fastidious;  it  is  the  one  thing  that  is 
without  sentiment. 

The  six  hundred. are  fed,  and  they  tramp  back  to 
Paris.  On  the  way  there  they  will  meet  another  swarm 
with  faces  set  toward  Versailles,  who  will  not  be  so 
easily  appeased. 

The  butcher's  consort  went  home  with  honors  ;  she 
was  now  a  leader  in  the  dingy  faubourg;  and  because  of 
this,  Dudevant's  stratagem  was  to  prove  his  ruin. 

She  did  not  forget  the  fair-haired  woman  of  the 
palace,  nor  the  giant  leader  of  the  Assembly.  Hour 
after  hour  she  gossipped  in  her  husband's  shop,  of  the 
angel  with  the  golden  hair — like  crinkled  sunshine-- 
and  with  a  blow  of  the  cleaver  on  the  meat-block  would 
exclaim: 

"  Phew!  There  is  but  one  woman  and  but  one  man  in 
all  Paris!  As  for  the  rest — 1'enfer!  A  French  invitation  to 
migrate  to  sheol." 

One  afternoon  a  stranger  came  into  the  shop.  He 
approached  her,  and,  regarding  her  attentively  for  a 
moment,  asked: 

'  Are  you  Madame  Cartouche  ?  " 

"And  who  is,  if  I  am  not ? "  retorted  the  woman, 
eyeing  him  with  evident  disfavor.  Then,  as  he  did 


1IELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  179 

not    immediately   answer    this   dubious   question,    she 
added: 

"  You  do  not  wish  to  buy  sausages,  do.you  ?  Bah,  I 
am  a  fool;  you  belong  to  the  aristocrats.  Well,  and 
what  do  you  want  with  the  shop,  eh  ?  What  do  you  want 
with  Mother  Cartouche  ?  Tell  me  that." 

"I  propose  to  do  so,"  returned  the  stranger,  taking 
no  notice  of  her  raillery.  "I  have  something  to  say  to 
you  privately;  something  that  you  will  be  very  much 
interested  to  know.  Can  you  take  me  to  a  room  where 
we  will  be  alone  ?  " 

"Oh,"  cried  the  beldame,  bursting  into  a  laugh,  "I 
am  not  afraid  to  be  in  a  room  with  you  alone;  and,  as 
for  Cartouche — well,  I  manage  Cartouche.  Come." 

Leading  the  way  into  a  small  sitting-room  behind 
the  shop,  she  pointed  to  a  seat,  and,  taking  one  herself, 
folded  her  red  arms  and  waited  for  him  to  begin. 

"Bah!  he  is  ugly,"  she  said  to  herself;  and  aloud: 
"Well,  can  you  speak  now?" 

"You  know  a  certain  journalist  by  the  name  of  Achille 
Dudevant?"  suggested  the  stranger,  as  though  confident 
of  her  reply. 

Mother  Cartouche,  however,  eyed  him  suspiciously. 

"And  if  I  should  happen  to  know  such  a  person?" 
she  demanded. 

"Well,  you  do  know  him, "returned  her  visitor;  "but 
you  do  not  know  that  you  ought  to  hate  him." 

"And  why  should  I  hate  him — he  is  a  good  republi- 
can and  hates  the  aristocrats?  And  do  you  know  why? 
I  will  tell  you.  One  of  your  fine  marquises  ran  away 
with  his  sweetheart  and  did  not  marry  her;  and  when 
Dudevant  exposed  him  to  his  friends,  and  the  little  law- 
yer Robespierre  went  to  him  and  demanded  that  he 
should  do  something  to  smooth  matters,  this  fine  noble- 
man kicked  the  lawyer,  and  afterwards  had  Dudevant 


l8o  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

imprisoned  for  a  month.  Oh,  that  was  before  the  times 
changed,  mind  you.  And  I  tell  you  that  little  Robes- 
pierre did  not  forget  that  kick,  either,  and  he  was  not 
long  about  turning  the  Marquis  out  of  France,  after  the 
Assembly  commenced  to  rule.  So,  you  see,  I  know  all 
about  this  poor  Dudevant." 

Mother  Cartouche's  volubility  had  carried  her 
entirely  away  from  the  object  of  the  interview  ;  and  it 
would  be  impossible  to.  say  how  long  she  would  have 
continued  in  this  strain  had  not  the  stranger  inter- 
rupted her. 

"  Oh,"  said  he,  "  I  have  heard  all  that,  and  much 
more  of  the  same  kind.  But  what  I  wish  to  hear  now 
is  this — whether  or  not  you  have  any  reason  to  protect 
this  man  Dudevant  if  he  is  arrested  for  a  crime  ? " 

"  Peste,"  cried  the  woman,  "  if  you  can  not  speak 
out,  go  away." 

"Very  well;  I  will  tell  you  that  this  Achille  Dude- 
vant one  year  ago  perpetrated  a  terrible  wrong  upon 
a  certain  relative  of  yours  who  was  a  servant  of  that 
very  Marquis  whom  you  were  talking  about." 

Mother  Cartouche  was  stirred  ;  she  began  to  feel 
uneasy  misgivings.  There  was  in  the  stranger's  man- 
ner, as  well  as  in  his  words,  an  ominous  preparation. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  she  asked,  all  the  asperity 
gone  from  her  voice,  which  was  husky  now. 

"Your  brother's  name  was  Jean  Beauchamp,  and  one 
year  ago  he  was  the  trusted  and  confidential  servant  of 
the  Marquis  of  B ." 

"  That  is  true,"  murmured  the  woman,  in  a  voice 
hardly  audible.  "  Well,  go  on." 

"  It  was  Jean  who  attended  to  the  Marquis'  little 
arrangements  in  his  love  affairs.  Dudevant  found  out 
that  it  was  Jean  who  abducted  the  girl  he  was  in  love 
with,  for  the  benefit  of  the  Marquis,  and  he  swore  he 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  l8l 

would  persecute  the  Marquis  to  the  death,  if  he  could; 
and  that  Jean  himself  should  die.'' 

Mother  Cartouche  had  risen  from  her  chair,  and 
now  stood  leaning  over  the  visitor  who  had  come  to 
impart  to  her  such  fearful  information,  as  though  her 
vengeance  was  about  to  fall  upon  him  for  unfolding  it. 
But  when  he  paused  an  instant,  she  hissed  out  between 
her  shut  teeth: 

"  Curse  it,  go  on,  I  tell  you ! " 

"Three  months  afterward, your  brother  was  executed 
for  the  murder  of  a  workman  in  the  factory  of  the 
brothers  Thierry,  Rue  St.  Antoine." 

"Scelerat!"  shouted  the  woman,  shaking  her 
clenched  fist  over  the  speaker,  while  her  small  eyes 
emitted  sparks  of  fire,  "is  it  this  that  you  have  come  to 
tell  me  ?  Yes,  my  brother  was  executed,  but  he  was 
innocent." 

"  I  believe  it,"  assented  her  visitor  with  a  peculiar 
smile;  "but  do  you  know  who  caused  his  conviction?" 

"  What !  if  I  did,  do  you  think  he  would  be  alive? 
Do  you  know  him  ?" 

"Yes.     Read  that." 

He  thrust  a  folded  paper  in  her  hand;  and  rising, 
stood  and  watched  her,  as  if  he  expected  a  terrible  out- 
burst. It  soon  came.  Tearing  open  the  paper,  she  read 
it  slowly  aloud,  word  for  word: 

"This  is  to  certify  that  on,  etc.,  a  sworn  statement 
was  filed  in  the  office  of  the  Prefect  of  the  Seine,  on, 
etc.,  by  one  Achille  Dudevant,  a  journalist  by  profes- 
sion, charging  one  Jean  Beuchamp,  residing  in  the  Rue 
St.  Martin,  at,  etc.,  with  having  killed  without  justifi- 
cation, in  the  presence  of  that  affiant,  a  workman  in  the 
employ,  etc.,  by  the  name  of  Jacques  Ledue,  etc.  That 
upon  the  filing  of  said  statement  said  Beauchamp  was 


182  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

arrested;  afterwards  tried,  convicted,  and  on,  etc.,  exe- 
cuted. That  the  only  evidence  not  circumstantial  was 
that  of  said  Dudevant." 

This  affidavit  was  duly  signed  and  sworn  to  by  a 
sergeant  de  ville. 

We  can  not  describe  the  appearance  of  the  butcher's 
wife  when  she  had  finished  reading  this  document.  It 
was  that  of  a  hyena  robbed  of  its  prey.  For  some  min- 
utes she  indulged  in  the  most  frightful  oaths;  but  the 
spirit  of  vengeance  was  fully  aroused  in  her  vindictive 
breast,  as  the  man  before  her  had  intended  it  should  be, 
and  it  was  not  to  be  appeased  by  mere  ebullitions  of  fury. 
She  soon  succeeded  in  calming  herself,  and  in  a  changed 
tone  demanded  to  know  how  best  she  could  mete  out  to 
her  brother's  "  murderer  "  the  full  measurement  of  the 
punishment  he  deserved. 

"You  wish  him  to  die,  do  you  not?"  suggested  the 
unknown. 

"Sacre,  yes,  he  must  die!  "  was  the  savage  answer. 

"Very  well.  You  know  that  this  man  is  a  paid  tool 
of  Robespierre,  who  would  not  willingly  allow  him  to 
be  arrested  or  punished.  Still,  Robespierre  has  a 
deadly  fear  of  the  mob,  of  the  sans  culottes.  You  will, 
therefore,  take  this  paper,  which  is  proof  against  Dude- 
vant of — no  matter  what;  and  you  will  have  the  petition 
at  the  end  of  the  accusation  signed  by  as  many  of  the 
people  as  yon  can  find  to  do  so.  You  will  have  it  here 
to  deliver  to  me  at  this  hour  on  the  day  after  to-morrow. 
Then  you  will  go  with  me  to  the  National  Assembly, 
and  there  we  will  see  Danton.  Do  you  understand?" 

'"'  Sacre,  yes,  give  it  me." 

Mother  Cartouche  snatched  the  roll  out  of  his  hands 
with  ferocious  eagerness ;  and  the  stranger  without 
further  speech,  walked  briskly  out  of  the  shop. 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  183 

This  man  was  D'Artivan.     The  Marquis  of  B 

nad  set  him  upon  the  track  of  more  than  one  of  his 
enemies.  Robespierre  was  one;  and  as  he  could  not 
yet  reach  Robespierre,  he  had  begun  with  the  underling 
Dudevant  who  had  really  set  Robespierre  upon  him. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

BIVOUACKED    IN    THE    ROYAL    STABLES. 

We  left  Sir  Philip  Belmore  nursing  his  bruises  in 
an  apartment  of  the  officer  of  the  King's  Guard,  and 
straining  an  anxious  ear  in  the  direction  of  the  Royal 
Square.  At  the  first  sounds  admonishing  him  of  the 
approach  of  the  mob,  he  rose  stiffly  from  his  uneasy 
couch  and  went  to  the  window,  which  overlooked  the 
avenue  leading  into  the  square  from  the  City.  At  the 
left  of  the  building  in  which  he  was  lodf^d  were  the 
palatial  stables  of  the  palace,  one  wing  of  which  was 
occupied  entirely  by  the  men  employed  there,  as  lodg- 
ings. 

Belmore's  first  thoughts,  as  he  beheld  the  rabble 
pouring  into  the  esplanade,  reverted  to  Helene.  Where 
was  she  ?  In  what  part  of  the  palace  ?  Was  she  in  the 
old  palace  or  the  new?  If  in  the  new,  she  would  be 
certain  to  come  in  contact  with  the  miserable  horde,  and 
share  whatever  abuse  they  had  in  store  for  the  royal 
family.  As  if  to  answer  his  thoughts  and  confirm  his 
fears,  a  page  at  that  moment  brought  him  a  note  from 
Helene. 

Belmore's  paleness  disappeared  as  he  glanced  at  the 
elegant  superscription  on  the  perfumed  envelope  which 
was  a  part  of  the  vellum  itself,  and  bore  her  coat  of 
arms — a  mailed,  gauntletted  hand  with  the  index  finger 
pointing  upward.  The  letter  was  as  follows: 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  solicitude.  There  is  no  danger  of  a  per- 
sonal attack  upon  any  one  here,  unless  it  should  be  invited  by  some 
imprudent  person,  and  that  folly  is  not  anticipated.  You  need  not 

184 


HELENE   SAIXTE    MAUR.  185 

distress  yourself,  therefore,  on  my  account;  though  again  I  thank 
you. 

"  I  am  told  that  you  had  a  terrible  struggle  with  this  same  mob, 
whom  you  passed  on  your  way  hither.  You  are  also  injured, 
although  no\  at  all  seriously,  the  physician  tells  me;  and  for  this 
also  I  am  thankful.  I  am  assured  that  you  are  receiving  proper 
care  and  attention.  You  need  rest  for  a  few  hours,  at  least. 

"And  now,  I  intend  to  lay  my  serious  commands  upon  you,  and 
you  will  not  disregard  them,  I  am  sure. 

"  On  no  account  must  you  or  either  of  your  party  leave  your 
apartments  while  those  wretched  creatures  are  here.  I  warn  you 
that  if  you  or  either  of  the  others  who  were  engaged  i-n  that  difficulty 
are  seen  by  the  mob,  it  can  not  fail,  as  you  must  know,  to  provoke 
an  outbreak  of  the  most  violent  character.  The  consequences  could 
hardly  be  foreseen.  You  had  better  keep  together;  and  it  would  be 
prudent,  also,  to  retire  to  a  place  that  is  not  likely  to  be  visited  by 
the  rabble.  The  most  retired  part  of  the  stables  would  be  the  safest 
from  their  observation,  and  at  the  same  time  the  most  comfortable, 
since  it  is  fitted  up  especially  for  lodging  and  dining  room.  In  the 
latter  there  will  be  room  for  all  of  your  party  ;  and  I  will  send  a 
servant  to  conduct  you  there  immediately,  if  you  assent. 

"  After  the  mob  shall  have  left  the  town  I  will  send  a  messenger 
to  you,  informing  you  where  you  can  then  find  me.  In  the  mean- 
time, I  shall,  of  course,  remain  with  the  Queen." 

"Tell  Mademoiselle  Sainte  Maur  that  I  will  do 
exactly  as  she  directs,"  said  Belmore,  turning  to  the 
waiting  page.  Then  he  re-perused  the  letter,  feasting 
his  eyes  upon  the  script  which  had  come  to  him  with 
the  scent  of  violets,  traced  by  the  fairest  hand  in  all 
France.  Returning  it  to  its  folds,  he  placed  it  in  the 
pocket  of  his  robe,  and  stood  moodily  gazing  out  of  the 
window  at  the  coming  multitude.  -Along  the  broad 
avenue  they  came,  tramping  in  disorderly  lines,  hoot- 
ing, shrieking,  cursing,  gesticulating,  a  veritable  pro- 
cession of  the  Demonai  vomited  out  of  hell. 

There  was  a  summons  at  his  door,  and  as  he  turned 
towards  it  his  brothers  and  Dumesnil  followed  by  a  ser- 
vant, entered. 


l86  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

Dumesnil  hurriedly  accosted  him  : 

"Mademoiselle  has  sent  word  to  us,"  said  he,  anx- 
iously regarding  the  approaching  throng  through  the 
window,  ''that  you  required  us  instantly.  ..What  is 
amiss?" 

Sir  Philip,  understanding  at  once  the  meaning  of  the 
peremptory  message,  pointed  toward  the  rabble,  and 
handed  Dumesnil  the  letter,  which  he  read  hurriedly. 

"You  see  there  is  no  time  to  spare,"  observed  Sir 
Philip. 

"  Mon  Dieu,  no,"  Dumesnil  answered;  then  he  added, 

"  On  my  soul,  that  woman  is  superb.  Here  were  we, 
four  of  us,  and  men  at  that,  getting  our  swords  sharpened, 
as  one  might  say,  to  take  a  hand  in  the  fight  we  expected 
would  re-commence  here.  Asses!  Yes,  we  were  asses, 
voila:  Well,  let  us  acknowledge  Mademoiselle  our 
Captain,  after  that.  And — million  thunders!  We  have 
not  one  minute  to  lose,  for  the  devils  are  inside  the 
gates." 

The  servant  who  had  entered  behind  them  now  in- 
formed them  that  he  had  been  sent  to  conduct  them  to 
the  retreat  selected  for  them. 

"Come,  then,  gentlemen,"  said  Sir  Philip,  quickly 
resuming  his  coat;  and  leading  the  way  out  of  the  suite 
in  which  he  had  been  so  comfortably  domiciled, the  ser- 
vant was  directed  to  take  them  at  once  to  their  rendez- 
vous. 

The  three  valets  were  overjoyed  at  the  appearance 
of  their  respective  masters.  Guppy's  satisfaction  was 
extreme;  his  red  lips  were  parted  with  an  ineffably  sweet 
expression,  his  blue  eyes  were  dancing  like  fire-flies,  as 
he  hovered  about  Sir  Philip.  In  his  exuberance  of 
spirits  he  could  not  refrain  from  an  occasional  remark. 
"Mr.  Trotter,  sir,"  he  whispered  to  that  individual, 
who  was  busy  in  arranging  comfortable  seats,  bringing 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  187 

flagons  of  water,  and  providing  sundry  other  comforts; 
"Mr.  Trotter,  you  'ave  not  taken  your  name  in  wain, 
sir." 

"Ah — 'ow's  that,  Mr.  Guppy?"  murmured  Trotter, 
dusting  a  deal  bench  with  an  enormous  red  cotton  'ker- 
chief. 

"  Why,"  explained  jeems,  graciously,  "  you're  a  per- 
ambulator of  the  first  quality,  that's  wot  you  h'are." 

Meanwhile,  the  distant  sounds  of  commotion  from 
the  Square  reached  our  party,  but  faintly,  and  it  seemed 
as  if  they  were  to  escape  the  notice  of  the  marauders. 
But  in  this  they  were  partially  disappointed.  While  the 
"committee"  of  women  were  holding  their  strange  audi- 
ence with  the  King,  some  twelve  or  fifteen  of  the  ruf- 
fians who  had  accompanied  them  from  Paris  were  prowl- 
ing around  the  stablemen's  quarters.  Led  on  by  the 
hope  of  finding  something  to  purloin,  they  entered  the 
long  corridor  or  passage,  on  one  side  of  which  was  situ- 
ated the  room  in  which  Sir  Philip  and  his  party  were 
gathered.  The  end  of  this  corridor  was  a  blank  wall; 
but  extending  across  it  was  a  transverse  passage  some 
fifteen  or  twenty  feet  deep,  on  either  side,  at  the  respective 
ends,  of  which  were  two  very  high  and  narrow  windows, 
that  were  there  only  for  the  purpose  of  giving  light  and 
ventilation.  There  was,  therefore,  absolutely  no  outlet 
from  the  corridor  except  the  front  entrance.  The  trans- 
verse passage  thus  formed  a  cul  de  sac. 

The  door  opening  from  the  corridor  into  the  room 
occupied  by  the  visitors,  as  well  as  the  outer  door  was 
unbolted,  and  as  the  last  of  the  stragglers  entered  the 
corridor  he  pushed  it  open  a  few  inches  and  stared 
into  the  apartment. 

Only  one  of  the  inmates  observed  him,  his  move- 
ments having  been  too  quiet  and  stealthy  to  have  dis- 
turbed any  one.  But  Guppy's  quick  eyes,  alert  as 


l88  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

usual,  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  man's  face  as  it  was 
thrust  through  the  opening,  and  although  it  was  hastily 
withdrawn,  the  valet  recognized  it  as  that  of  one  of  the 
miscreants -who  had  attacked  him  when  he  went  to  his 
master's  aid,  and  whom  he  had  knocked  down.  Saying 
nothing  to  the  rest,  he  walked  briskly  to  the  door  and 
passing  through  it  closed  it  noiselessly  after  him.  The 
man's  glance,  as  he  peered  into  the  room,  had  rested 
upon  Sir  Philip's  face  with  a  startled  look,  and  it  was 
evident  that  it  had  been  recognized  and  that  in  a  feu- 
minutes  the  whole  gang  of  marauders  would  swarm  in 
upon  the  little  party  and  annihilate  it.  unless  something 
were  done,  and  that  speedily,  to  prevent  an  alarm  being 
given  them. 

Guppy  was  the  author  of  a  very  sensible  precept, 
which  he  also  followed:  "Wothever  you  do,  let  your 
'ead,  'ands,  hand  'eels  work  all  at  once,  h'and  to- 
gether." 

The  moment  of  all  others  to  demonstrate  the  wis- 
dom of  this  advice  was  certainly  at  hand,  and  Guppy 
knew  it.  As  he  passed  into  the  corridor  the  last  of  the 
marauders — the  man  who  had  looked  into  the  room- 
was  disappearing  at  the  end  of  the  corridor  into  the 
transverse  passage,  from  which  a  chorus  of  hoarse 
voices  proceeded.  Evidently,  thought  Guppy,  there 
are  a  lot  of  the  vagabonds  in  there,  and  this  one  is 
going  to  tell  them  of  his  discovery,  hoping  to  mass  them 
in  front  of  the  door  of  the  room  which  they  could  then 
very  easily  convert  into  a  slaughter  pen,  since  there  was 
but  one  means  of  egress,  and  it  would  be  the  work  of  a 
minute  or  two  to  summon  the  whole  rabble  to  assist  in 
butchering  the  victims. 

Guppy's  resolution  was  instantly  taken.  He  slipped 
quietly  back  to  his  companions,  and,  motioning  them  to 
listen  and  observe  silence,  told  them  in  a  few  words  all 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  189 

that  he  had  seen,  and  suggested  what  should  be  done. 
He  had  noticed  the  blind  passage  when  he  first  came 
into  the  building,  and  his  hope  was  that  the  ruffians 
themselves  might  be  trapped. 

After  a  rapid  consultation  Sir  Philip  said: 

"  My  friends,  there  must  be  no  mistake  of  judgment 
in  what  we  "undertake  to  do;  and  there  must  be  perfect 
concert  of  movement.  This  is. our  plan:  When  we 
issue  into  the  corridor,  Guppy  will  spring  to  the  outer 
door  and  bolt  it,  so  as  to  prevent  the  entrance  of  any 
one  from  the  outside.  Then  we  will  rush  in  a  body, 
with  drawn  swords  and  whips,  to  the  rear  of  the  corri- 
dor, thus  closing  the  mouth  of  the  cross-way,  and  hold- 
ing the  gang  ia  a  cul  de  sac.  If  they  attempt  to  force 
their  passage  out  we  must  cut  them  down;  but  if  they 
do  not,  and  offer  to  give  no  alarm,  we  will  hold  them 
there  until  the  body  of  the  mob  has  left  Versailles." 

This  plan  was  rapidly  rehearsed  while  the  party  were 
preparing  for  the  attack  ;  and  Guppy,  meantime,  hav- 
ing found  several  forks  in  the  tool  chest  of  the  closet 
opening  into  the  apartment,  the  seven  men,  armed  with 
swords  and  forks,  dashed  out  of  the  room,  three  abreast 
(Guppy  having  darted  to  the  front  entrance  to  secure 
it),  and  rushed  toward  the  blind  passage. 

Meantime,  as  if  to  favor  this  precarious  plan,  the  spy 
had  gathered  his  companions  in  one  end  of  the  cul  de 
sac,  where  in  excited  whispers  he  had  told  them  of  his 
discovery.  He  was  proceeding  to  offer  his  leadership 
in  securing  or  massacring  the  strangers,  when  there 
came  a  rush  of  feet,  and,  as  they  turned  in  dismay — a 
wall  had  risen  up  across  the  mouth  of  the  corridor, 
bristling  with  weapons,  blazing  with  eyes.  Before  a 
hand  was  raised,  a  voice  which  caused  them  to  tremble 
broke  upon  them  like  thunder  in  a  cavern: 


IQO  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

"  Silence  among  you!  If  you  speak,  if  you  move,  we 
will  fall  upon  you  and  cut  you  to  pieces? " 

The  gang  neither  spoke  nor  moved  for  the  space  of 
a  minute;  they  were  amazed,  they  were  terrorized.  And 
certainly  they  had  nothing  to  hope  for,  should  they 
attempt  an  assault  and  fail.  Those  stern  faces  looking 
down  on  them  as  they  sat  huddled  there  at  the  end  of 
the  treacherous  passage  gave  them  only  the  promise  of 
death,  even  if  they  confined  themselves  to  shouting  an 
alarm  to  their  distant  confederates. 

But  there  was  one  man  among  them  who  was  about 
to  earn  the  name  of  madman.  He  was  a  vigorous  fel- 
low, about  the  size  and  weight  of  Guppy,  of  muscular 
appearance  and  build,  with  fiery  hair  and  beard,  and 
with  wildly  glancing  eyes  of  a  pale  gray. 

Rising  from  the  midst  of  his  companions,  as  he  mut- 
tered an  imprecation,  he  deliberately  advanced  toward 
the  mouth  of  the  trap.  When  within  a  few  feet  of  the 
menacing  weapons,  he  turned  his  head  backward,  and 
shouted: 

"Come  on,  let  us  tear  the  hearts  out  of  the  dogs!" 

This  bold  movement  and  speech  had  upon  the  others 
the  effect  of  an  electric  shock.  They  scrambled  to 
their  feet,  braced  themselves  for  a  rush,  and  several  of 
them  displayed  knives,  which  they  brandished  fiercely, 
glowering  threateningly  as  they  bega~n  to  creep  forward. 

The  two  parties  that  now  confronted  each  other, 
although  utterly  dissimilar  in  character  and  appearance, 
as  well  as  purpose,  were  in  equal  peril.  An  outcry  by 
the  one,  if  heard  by  the  insurgents  in  the  esplanade  yon- 
der, would  bring  certain  destruction  to  the  other.  But 
such  an  outcry,  or  an  attack  by  the  gang,  penned  as  they 
were  in  the  narrow  passage,  and  with  no  weapons  but 
their  short  knives,  would  surely  end  in  the  slaughter  of 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  191 

most  of  them  before  their  accomplices  could  come  to 
their  rescue. 

Equally  imbued  with  this  terrible  knowledge,  both 
parties  hesitated,  the  one  to  press  in  upon  the  gang,  the 
other  to  attack  and  to  raise  the  alarm. 

The  self-appointed  leader  grew  impatient;  his  pale 
eyes  rolled  with  an  insane  frenzy. 

"Come,  cowards!  "  cried  he,  hoarse  from  excitement 
and  rage;  "let  us  beat  down  these  enemies  of  the  people, 
and  deliver  them  to  the  women!" 

The  band,  fifteen  in  number,  gathered  themselves  for 
a  rush.  The  next  instant  they  would  have  hurled  them- 
selves upon  their  besiegers;  but  before  any  one  could 
divine  his  intention,  Dumesnil  pushed  his  way  through 
the  cordon,  and  with  two  strides  was  at  the  side  of  the 
leader  of  the  rioters.  Then  the  latter,  looking  upward 
in  amazement  at  the  gigantic  figure  towering  over  him, 
felt  himself  lifted  as  the  hurricane  would  lift  a  sapling; 
his  breast  was  crushed  against  that  of  his  assailant,  till 
there  was  not  breath  enough  left  in  it  for  a  cry;  then  he 
was  shot  out  from  the  mighty  arms  as  though  from  a 
catapult,  and  headlong  into  the  midst  of  the  group  he 
had  fired  by  his  bravado.  The  force  with  which  he  was 
hurled  was  fearful,  as,  indeed,  were  the  consequences. 
Every  portion  of  his  own  body  seemed  to  strike  the 
body  of  another  of  the  appalled  wretches  who  stood 
huddled  at  the  end  of  the  way;  and  while  those  who 
were  thus  struck  fell  stunned  or  crippled,  the  hapless 
leader  himself  dropped  upon  the  pavement,  a  shape- 
less, broken  mass. 

It  was  not  any  longer  necessary  to  threaten  death  to 

the  cowering  band  in  the  cul  de  sac.    Except  for  a  groan 

or  a  stifled  cry  at  intervals  from  those  who  were  injured, 

no  sound  but  their  labored  breathing  was  now  heard. 

To  those  who  held  them  prisoners,  and  who  stood 


Ip2  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

there  on  guard  over  them,  the  moments  were  hours.  To 
their  listening  ears  came  the  distant  and  confused  sounds 
made  by  the  mob  as  they  hovered  about  the  palace  gates! 
but  these  sounds  gave  no  report  of  what  was  transpiring 
in  the  chateau  itself.  There  was  no  means  of  knowing 
how  soon  the  mob  would  leave,  or  whether  it  might  not 
visit  the  stables  themselves. 

At  last,  however,  there  was  absolute  silence  without, 
and  Guppy  was  sent  to  reconnoiter.  He  returned  in 
the  course  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour  with  the  gratifying 
news  that  the  mob  had  retired  without  attempting  any 
mischief,  and  that  there  was  no  longer  any  necessity  for 
concealment.  A  sort  of  court-martial  was  then  held, 
and  finally  it  was  decided  that  the  prisoners  should  be 
allowed  to  go  out  of  the  town.  They  were  accordingly 
set  free,  and  went  forth  without  an  escort,  in  silence, 
and  with  scowls  which  they  did  not  attempt  to  conceal. 

On  returning  to  the  palace,  Sir  Philip  found  a  billet 
awaiting  him  from  Helene.  It  briefly  read  : 

"Come  to  the  CEil  de  Bceuf." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

IN  THE  CEIL  DE  BCEUF. 

•V. 

Paris,  on  the  5th  of  October,  1789,  belonged  bodily 
to  the  Commune — the  Commune  which  had  cursed  and 
overthrown  the  monarchy,  in  effect — as  it  was  to  dis- 
cover later — "because  the  monarchy  was  tyrannous  and 
oppressive,"  proved  a  greater  tyrant  itself — a  tyrant 
with  neither  reason,  excuse  nor  mercy.  It  was  a  wild 
beast  let  loose  on  helpless  society,  rampant,  raging, 
devouring,  insatiable. 

Incapable  of  overpowering  it,  helpless  to  defend 
themselves  against  it,  the  nobles  of  France  had  aban- 
doned hope  and  prepared  for  flight.  Hundreds  of  them 
had  left  Paris,  hundreds  more  were  leaving,  with  thou- 
sands of  the  aristocratic  class  for  company.  Most  of 
them  fled  to  Germany  and  England,  and  others  still 
were  ready  to  follow  their  example. 
Helene  Sainte  Maur  had  remained. 
Twice  Sir  Philip  had  implored  her  to  go,  but  she 
had  sternly  refused.  Her  motive,  she  said,  was  that 
feeling  of  friendship  and  duty  which  kept  her  at  the 
Queen's  side.  The  falling  fortunes  of  her  unhappy  sov-" 
ereign,  instead  of  alienating  her,  as  it  had  so  many  of 
her  professed  friends,  had  created  a  stronger  tie  for  her, 
and  she  would  not  desert  her. 

Sir  Philip's  brothers  and  the  brave  Dumesnil  had 
counseled  him  to  go,  and  confessed  that  they  themselves 
desired  earnestly  to  leave  the  stricken  capital,  and  pro- 
posed to  do  so  as  soon  as  he  consented  to  go  with  them. 

193 


194  HELENE    SAINTE   MAUR. 

But  Sir  Philip  had  twice  declared  his  determination  to 
remain,  even  in  the  face  of  any  danger  that  could  possi- 
bly threaten,  so  long  as  the  woman  he  worshiped  con- 
tinued to  stay.  He  urged  them  to  go  without  him,  but 
to  this  they  refused  to  listen;  they  must  all  depart  or  all 
remain — together. 

In  fact,  nothing  could  surpass  the  noble  unselfishness 
of  these  four  brave  men,  one  of  whom  thus  refused  to 
abandon  a  woman,  and  the  others  to  abandon  a  com- 
rade, on  the  threshhold  of  mortal  perils  which  they 
believed  impended  over  them  if  they  remained. 

The  three  valets  had  been  offered  liberty  to  return  to 
England,  with  promises  that  their  wages  would  still  be 
regularly  paid  them;  but  they  were  greviously  hurt  by 
the  mere  proposition,  and  avowed  their  intention  not  to 
budge  an  inch  without  their  masters. 

Even  Clarise,  to  whom  her  mistress  had  offered  pas- 
sage to  England,  with  a  handsome  douceur,  had  emphat- 
ically declined. 

Thus  there  was,  in  effect,  an  unspoken  but  irrevo- 
cable compact  between  these  heroic  characters  which 
bound  them  together  as  participants  in  the  most  san- 
guinary tragedy  that  has  ever  been  exhibited  upon  the 
world's  stage. 

Sir  Philip  had,  however,  determined,  as  we  have 
already  intimated,  to  once  more  urge  Helene  to  recede 
from  her  stern  and  heroic  resolution;  and  his  visit  to 
Versailles  was  partly  induced  by  this  motive. 

It  was  with  an  almost  tremulous  eagerness  that  he 
now  entered  the  magnificent  "oval  salon  "  or  great  gal- 
lery of  the  Palace,  to  which  he  had  been  directed  to 
come  by  the  note  he  had  received  from  Helene. 

This  immense  gallery  was  constructed  so  as  to  give 
a  perfect  view  of  the  exquisite  gardens  of  the  chateau. 
Seventeen  lofty  windows  faced  them  and  opened  upon 


HELENF.    SAINTE    MAUR.  IQ5 

a  balcony  three  hundred  feet  long  and  supported  by 
stately  pillars,  vvitha  pavement  of  marble.  The  interior 
wall  of  the  hall,  opposite  the  windows,  was  formed  by 
seventeen  arches  with  panels  of  pier-glass,  and  of  the 
same  proportions  as  the  windows.  Twenty-four  ele- 
gant pilasters  extended  between  the  arches  and  the 
windows.  At  the  farther  end  of  this  splendid  gallery 
was  a  group  of  rare  and  antique  statues,  among  them 
that  of  Bacchus,  Germanicus  and  Diana.  This  last 
mentioned  statue  was  famed  for  the  remarkable  resem- 
blance between  it  and  Helene  Sainte  Maur,  to  which  we 
have  already  made  reference.  Singularly,  Sir  Philip 
had  never  observed  it  before;  but  now,  as  he  saw  Helene 
standing  near  the  statue,  where  she  had  been  waiting 
for  him,  he  suddenly  stopped  and  stared  at  these  two 
figures,  the  one  rigid,  white  and  icy;  the  other  with  her 
fair  arm  leaning  on  the  marble  neck,  glowing,  pulsing, 
warm  with  life,  an  incarnation  of  the  sylvan  goddess. 

Helene  saw  the  wondering  expression  in  his  eyes  and 
came  toward  him  with  a  smile. 

"  Ah,  you  are  very  welcome,"  she  said,  extending 
her  hand  to  him  with  inimitable  grace;  "  especially  since 
our  recent  guests  were  such  unpleasant  ones.  And  so 
you,  too,  have  been  tasting  some  of  the  bitter  which 
even  our  Paris  offers  with  its  sweets?"  she  continued,  as 
she  led  him  to  one  of  the  casements. 

"Yes,"  responded  Belmore,  the  rich  and  flexible 
tones  of  his  voice  a  little  shaken  as  he  looked  upon  her. 
"  But  it  is  sweet  indeed  to  find  you  here  in  security,  after 
that  fierce  invasion.  And  your  ancestress  there,"  point- 
ing to  the  statue,  "for  ancestress  she  must  have  been, 
has  doubtless  had  something  to  do  with  your  safety." 

"  Oh,  I  see  that  you  are  not  to  be  convinced, 
although  I  have  insisted  that  there  was  no  possible  dan- 
ger here  from  the  poor  creatures.  But,"  she  observed, 


196  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

reflectively,  "  perhaps  I  may  need  her  protection  in  very, 
earnest,  soon." 

"How?"  ejaculated  Sir  Philip,  starting  violently  at 
these  ominous  words.  "  What  is  it  you  fear  ? " 

Helene  raised  her  eyes  slowly  to  his  with  a  mournful 
expression  in  their  dark  depths  that  to  him  presaged 
worse  evils  than  her  tongue  could  have  recounted.  But 
her  voice,  as  mournful  as  her  eyes,  had  no  tremor  of  fear 
in  it  as  she  answered  him  : 

"My  friend,  do  you  know  what  it  is  that  the  mob  of 
women  and  idle  men  represent?  Well,  it  is  that  unrea- 
oningand  terrible  multitude  that  calls  itself  '  the  people.' 
France  is  approaching  a  frightful  crisis.  It  has  no 
resources,  it  is  bankrupt  at  last.  It  can  not  feed  the 
starving.  Famine  may  be  borne  with  resignation,  with 
fortitude,  when  inflicted  by  the  omnipotent;  but  when 
it  comes  through  the  sole  agency  of  a  debauched  and 
profligate  class  who  feast  in  the  midst  of  want  and  riot 
in  the  sight  of  the  public  miser"  it  is  the  inevitable  fore- 
runner of  horrors." 

Amazed  at  such  utterances,  and  at  the  preternatur- 
alness  of  her  manner,  Belmore  recoiled  for  a  moment. 
Then  he  asked,  huskily: 

"  Is  it  possible  that  you  can  think  this?  Do  you 
believe  that  France  is  threatened  with  anarchy?" 

"Yes!"  The  voice  was  passionless.  It  might  have 
been  the  oracle  whose  likeness  she  bore,  so  inexorable 
she  appeared  who  uttered  that  fiat. 

"But  surely  there  are  no  visible  signs  of  such  an 
awful  catastrophe,"  said  Sir  Philip,  his  heart  belying  the 
words. 

"No  visible  signs?"  responded  Helene,  with  a  flash 
almost  contemptuous.  Then,  with  a  compassionate  ges- 
ture, she  said: 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  197 

"Poor  France!  She  is  in  night.  And  for  her  there 
is  no  prophet." 

For  several  minutes  there  was  silence  between  the 
two.  Then,  waking  from  reflections  that  were  plainly 
torturing  him,  Belmore  asked,  hesitatingly: 

"  And  if  these  evils  come — you  will  not  stay  in  Paris, 
in  France?" 

The  fair  face  flushed;  the  eyes  grew  resplendent  with 
alight  he  had  never  yet  seen  there  till  now  ;  it  seemed 
to  him  to  illumine  her  soul  for  an  instant,  that  he  might 
behold  the  majesty  of  it. 

"  You  have  said  that  Pans  is  no  place  for  women  now. 
I  have  not  answered  that  before,  but  I  will  answer  it 
now.  I  grant  the  truth  of  it,  if  you  mean  women  who 
are  mere  butterflies  or  drudges.  For  women  of  another 
kind  there  will  soon  be  duties  here  as  imperative  as  they 
are  stern  and  hard  to  perform.  It  matters  not  how 
much  fortitude  and  heroism  will  be  required  or  demanded, 
women  will  be  found  here  who  possess  it.  No,  I  shall 
not  leave  Paris.  I  am  the  friend  of  the  Queen,  of  the 
woman  who  has  harmed  no  one,  and  whom  my  gallant 
countrymen,  finding  defenseless,  dare  to  persecute  and 
insult.  Well,  after  a  little  while  they  will  do  .more — 
but  I  am  not  here  to  utter  prophecies  to  you.  I  will 
not  tell  you  of  the  fearful  visions  that  have  appalled  me. 
Let  it  be  enough  to  say  now  that  I  believe  they  shadow 
realities  that  are  close  behind  them." 

"And  with  such  premonitions  you  oersist  in  staying 
here?" 

Belmore  asked  this  question  with  asperity.  He  knew 
quite  well  what  would  be  her  reply. 

"  Terrible  as  those  realities  may  be,  I  remain  to  con- 
front them — with  her." 

Helene  pointed  with  her  open  palm  toward  the  apart- 
ment of  the  Queen;  and,  as  Belmore  looked  at  the 


198  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

diminutive  hand,  white,  blue-veined  and  tender  as  a 
child's,  he  wondered;  in  the  white  bosom  of  this  woman 
beat  the  heart  of  a  knight.  At  the  end  of  a  minute  of 
moody  silence,  he  asked: 

"And  if  the  Queen  could  be  persuaded  to  leave 
France,  would  you  depart  with  her?  " 

Helene  started  violently,  as  if  his  'question  offered 
something  after  which  she  had  been  groping.  In  her 
eyes  was  a  counter-question,  as  she  turned  them  full 
upon  him  and  answered: 

"I  would  depart  with  her — perhaps." 

"Perhaps!  After  the  Queen,  could  there  be  any 
inducement  to  keep  you  longer  here?" 

Belmore  spoke  with  painful  eagerness.  He  was 
already  fully  infected  with  her  fears;  he  could  already 
conjure  scenes  that  were  horrifying,  in  the  midst  of 
which  Helene  stood,  moved,  and  shared  them,  always  in 
peril  of  her  life. 

"  Probably  not,"  was  the  slow  answer.  But  even 
while  his  hopes  were  rising,  she  sent  them  for  the 
instant  toppling  into  ruins.  "The  Queen,  however,  will 
not  put  faith  in  my  warnings.  She  will  be  convinced 
only  when  they  are  verified-  or  when  it  will  at  least  be 
too  late." 

"And  your  own  resolve,  can  nothing  change  it?" 

His  eyes  and  voice  betrayed  the  infinite  sadness  of 
his  soul,  and  the  utter  impotence  of  his  will. 

"Nothing  can  change  it,"  she  answered,  gently.  She 
was  regarding  him  curiously,  as  he  stood  with  drooping 
head  before  her,  his  arms  folded  tightly  over  his  breast 
as  though  to  still  the  tumult  in  his  heart. 

He  was  not  conscious  of  the  look  that  rested  upon,  nay, 
the  look  that  caressed,  him.  There  was,  nevertheless, 
a  revelation  in  her  eyes  that — had  he  seen  it — would 
have  made  his  heart  leap.  But  it  passed  before  he  lifted 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  199 

his  head.  Then  she  laid  her  hand  upon  his  sleeve, 
and  he  felt  it  vibrate  even  through  that  thick  covering, 
while  she  in  her  turn  questioned: 

"Tell  me  of  your  own  plans?  There  can  be  no  sensi- 
ble excuse  for  you  to  remain  here.  You  came  here  in 
search  of  pleasure." 

"And  remain  to  fulfill  a  duty." 

He  had  stopped  her  with  a  gesture  full  of  sternness, 
with  a  look  full  of  dignity;  and  she  was  neither  sur- 
prised nor  offended.  A  rose-flush  came  into  her  cheeks, 
and  a  light — like  that  which  sudden  happiness  quick- 
ens— dwelt  in  her  eyes  for  a  second  ere  she  could  veil 
them.  The  white  lids  were  lowered,  the  silken  lashes 
hid  the  opaline  rays  as  they  died.  He  had  seen  neither 
the  red  flush  nor  the  furtive  light,  and  she  was  grate- 
ful. Driving  back  the  thoughts  that  for  that  little  but 
eventful  interval  had  possessed  her,  she  raised  her  eyes 
to  his  again,  and  now  they  were  calm  and  reposeful. 
His  grave  voice  had  not  halted;  and  as  it  fell  upon  her 
ear  with  a  cadenced  melody  she  had  but  just  now  dis- 
covered, it  told  her  that  his  resolve,  also,  had  been 
taken.  He  would  remain;  and,  if  she  permitted  it, 
would  share  her  duties  as  he  intended  to  share  her 
peril. 

Helene  reflected;  she  was  reviewing  all  that  he  had 
said.  Her  decision  was  not  hasty,  but  it  was  prompt  and 
final: 

"So  be  it.  There  is  much  that  you  can  do  here, 
perhaps,  in  aid  of  the  Queen,  and  I  have  not  the  right 
to  deprive  her  of  such  services.  And  since  you  know 
that  for  her  sake  alone  I  stay,  know  also  that  in  aiding 
her  you  place  me  under  obligations.  Still,  I  would  not 
urge  you  to  remain  here.  Indeed,  I  try  to  feel  regret 
over  your  decision;  but  since  you  have  so  determined, 
I  confess  to  you  that  I  am  both  pleased  and  gratified." 


200  HELENE    SAINTE   MAUR. 

Belmore  seized  the  hand  she  extended  to  him  and 
pressed  it  to  his  lips.  In  spite  of  his  mournful  forebod- 
ings, of  his  intense  anxieties,  he  experienced  a  sober  joy 
as  he  felt  that  he  and  she  were  to  be  drawn  closer 
together  by  the  very  circumstances  which  caused  his 
distress  and  excited  his  fears. 

After  another  interval  of  silence,  during  which  each 
occupied  the  thoughts  of  the  other,  Helene  stirred  out 
of  her  reverie,  with  a  faint  sigh  that  was  not  one  of  pain. 

"I  fear  I  must  say  adieu  to  you  now/'  she  said  ;  and 
there  was  a  peculiar  gentleness  in  her  voice  and  manner 
that  thrilled  him.  "  The  Queen,"  who  knows  that  I 
came  here  to  meet  you,  expected  me  to  return  to  her  as 
soon  as  I  could  do  so.  She  is  suffering  from  this  new 
shock  and  needs  me.  You  return  to  Paris  at  once,  do 
you  not?" 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  as  they  walked  slowly  toward  the 
great  entrance — that  entrance  which  in  a  few  hours 
more  would  be  besieged  by  that  very  multitude  she  had 
just  described.  There  they  parted — for  the  last  time  on 
that  threshhold  which  royalty  was  soon  to  cross  for  the 
last  time  also.  Even  her  prescient  mind  gave  her  no 
glimpse  of  the  tragedy  of  the  morrow,  as  she  stood 
there  in  all  her  regal  beauty,  peacefully  smiling  into  the 
face  of  her  departing  knight. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE   SIXTH    OF    OCTOBER. 

The  entertainment  given  at  Versailles  on  the  ist  of 
October  brought  unhappy  results,  as  Helene  had  pre- 
dicted. The  fete  was  brilliant — and  fatal.  In  their 
enthusiasm  and  zeal  the  young  nobles  had  pledged 
their  honor,  their  swords  and  their  lives  to  the  King; 
and  for  awhile  the  royal  family  appeared  in  a  box  of 
the  little  theatre  where  the  fete  was  given.  These  inci- 
dents were  so  distorted  by  the  time  they  reached  the 
City  of  Gossip  as  to  be  merely  monstrous  falsehoods. 

The  "  people  "  were  aroused;  the  Assembly  denounced 
to  them  the  Court  and  King  as  traitors.  The  Tiers- 
Etats  sent  out  their  secret  emissaries  to  fire  the  black 
hearts  of  the  mob  that  lay  in  waiting — always  in  wait- 
ing— in  the  six  converging  alleys  of  the  Faubourg  St. 
Antoine.  Each  day  the  rabble  grew  fiercer,  until  the 
afternoon  of  the  fifth,  when  it  culminated. 

Then,  hurling  its  foul  baths  at  the  terrible  God  who 
was  later  to  visit  His  vengeance  upon  them,  the  insur- 
gents tramped  to  Versailles,  meeting  on  the  way  those 
who  were  returning,  and  forcing  many  of  them  to  go 
back. 

At  Versailles,  no  adequate  preparation  for  defense 
had  been  made.  The  most  accessible  portio  n  of  the 
palace  was  left  absolutely  free  to  the  invaders.  The 
Sates  were  flung  open  at  dawn  of  the  morning  of  the 
memorable  sixth,  and  with  the  howls  of  jungle-beasts 

insurgents  forced  their  way  into  the  palace, 
aoi 


2O2  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

Then  the  scenes  that  gave  the  lie  to  French  man- 
hood were  frightful.  The  few  who  proved  the  truth  of 
"chivalry"  were  massacred  by  the  thousands  who 
proved  the  universal  lust  of  blood.  From  hall  to  hall 
the  body-guards  were  pursued,  hunted,  cut  down,  butch- 
ered. Tumult  without,  pandemonium  within.  The 
Queen  awoke  from  a  troubled  dream;  listened  in  alarm 
to  the  rush  of  feet  as  the  mob  approached  her  door. 

She  springs  from  her  bed,  and,  holding  on  to  the 
carved  post,  waits,  expecting  the  worst.  But  a  nearer 
and  a  swifter  step  than  the  merciless  mob's  comes  to 
her  straining  ear,  and  then  the  door  of  her  chamber 
flies  open,  and  Helene  Sainte  Maur  rushes  to  her  bed- 
side. The  Queen  stretches  out  her  hand. 

"  Helene! "  she  murmers;  and  reeling  with  a  moment- 
ary faintness  she  leans  heavily  upon  the  bosom  of  her 
friend. 

"Compose  yourself,  Madam,"  exclaimed  the  latter, 
supporting  the  swaying  form  of  the  Queen  with  a  hand 
as  firm  as  though  it  had  been  of  iron. 

"But,  my  children?"  murmured  the  Queen,  faintly. 

"  They  are  with  the  King  now;  they  have  just  been 
sent  to  him,"  replied  Helene,  bending  like  a  protecting 
goddess  over  the  drooping  form.  The  disheveled  hair 
falls  like  a  veil  of  crinkled  sunshine  around  her  fair  head; 
her  eyes  are  like  the  sun  itself  when  set  in  a  tropic  sky 
of  azure;  her  face,  in  all  its  wondrous  outlines,  is  calm 
as  that  of  the  marble  Diana,  and  she  does  not  belie  her 
wonderful  resemblance. 

"Fly,  Madame!"  rings  out  from  her  lips  like  the 
tones  of  a  silver  trumpet.  At  the  instant  she  utters 
this  warning  the  Queen's  maids  enter,  lamenting,  dis- 
mayed, bewildered.  Helene  seizes  a  robe,  throws  it 
over  the  bare  white  shoulders  of  the  Queen,  and  directs 
the  maids,  whom  she  has  calmed  with  a  word,  to  bear 


HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR.  2OJ 

their  mistress  to  the  King's  apartment.  Then,  as  the 
assassins  burst  into  the  room,  she  turns  upon  them  and 
spreads  out  her  arms  before  them.  They  hesitate,  only 
for  a  moment;  but  that  moment  is  longer  than  enough; 
the  Queen  has  been  hurried  out  of  the  chamber;  and 
five  of  the  Swiss  Guards  have  pressed  around  the  intrepid 
woman  who  holds  the  entrance.  Inspired  by  a  glance, 
a  word,  and  the  courage  they  see  in  that  delicate  form, 
they  escort  her,  with  bristling  bayonets,  to  the  room 
where  the  Queen  waits.  And  there  they  turn  again,  a 
quincunx  of  breathing  statues. 

Hark!  the  sound,  a  score  of  tirres  repeated,  of  the 
axes  of  the  mob  at  the  door  of  tne  CEil  de  Boeuf  star- 
tles them;  minutes  are  eternities.  But,  before  the  thun- 
ders cease,  a  band  of  Grenadieurs  enters,  sent  by 
Lafayette,  the  commander-in-chief.  They  join  the 
Guards,  and  with  leveled  bayonets  together  they  clear 
the  palace. 

There  is  a  lull  within.  Then  there  comes  from  with- 
out a  cry  which  reaches  the  royal  ears  with  a  doubtful 
meaning: 

"The  King!     Let  us  see  the  King! " 

The  King  hurries  out  upon  the  balcony;  and  the 
Queen  and  Helene  follow. 

And  now  there  is  enacted  one  of  those  amazing 
scenes  which  never  occur  except  in  a  riot — in  Paris. 

Without  knowing  why,  King  and  Queen,  Body- 
Guards  and  National  Guards,  the  nobles  and  the  "peo- 
ple "  all  are  frantically  waving  the  tri-color. 

That  is  the  guerdon  of  peace,  is  it  not? 

Trust  no  sign,  it  is  fallacious;  believe  no  assevera- 
tion, it  is  a  caprice.  The  drift  of  the  wind,  the  temper 
of  a  woman,  the  disposition  of  a  French  mob  are  "  sub- 
ject to  change"  at  any  moment. 

A  voice  rises  out  of  the  midst   of  the  throng.     It  is 


2O4  HELENE   SAJNTE    MAUR. 

sinister  and  familiar;  it  is  the  voice  of  the  journalist 
Dudevant.  It  falls  like  a  knell  upon  the  ears  of  smiling 
royalty: 

"LeRoi  a  Paris!" 

A  whisper  of  dismay  ripples  along  the  balcony,  flits 
through  the  halls,  penetrates  the  chambers  and  fills  the 
chateau  with  an  ominous,  a  dreadful  echo: 

"The  King  to  Paris?" 

Yes;  and  for  the  last  time  forever.  At  the  command 
of  a  mob  royalty  must  abandon  Versailles. 

Poor  Louis !  With  butchers  and  market-porters, 
with  fish-women  and  those  reeking  chiffoniers  whose 
garments  reeked  with  the  filth  of  the  St.  Denis  sewer- 
main,  with  vagrants  and  thieves,  he  trudged  on  to  Paris. 
These  were  his  escort,  and  they  guarded  him  and  his 
with  eyes  of  hawks,  as  they  swarmed  around  his  coach. 

Thus  he  was  dragged  to  Paris,  he  and  his  Queen. 
Thus  he  was  dragged  to  the  town-hall,  placed  upon  a 
balcony,  and,  with  a  tri-color  pinned  to  his  hat,  exhibited 
to  the  gaping,  leering  vagabonds  who  shielded  their 
crimes  under  the  name  of  ''Republican."  But  the  exhi- 
bition was  too  tame,  and  the  mob  clamored: 

"  Put  the  bonnet-rouge  on  him,  la  !  " 

The  hat  was  removed,  and  the  red  cap  of  the  Com- 
mune perched  upon  the  bowed  head  of  the  descendant 
of  St.  Louis,  who  obeyed  even  this  indignity  with  a 
smile.  This  sovereign  was  not  a  physical  coward;  but 
we  repeat  it,  he  was  a  poltroon. 

The  sight  of  this  ignominy  appeased  the  rabble,  as 
does  a  full  meal  a  glutton — for  a  day. 

That  night  saw  the  royal  family  domiciled — that  is  to 
say,  imprisoned — in  the  Tuilleries.  There  they  were  to 
languish  until  humanity  should  prove  again  how  abso- 
lutely inhuman  it  may  be. 

Within  ten  days  after  this  ignoble  display  the  pop- 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  205 

ulace  was  again  raging.  Now,  the  "  people  "  were  no 
longer  mere  savages;  they  were  wild  beasts  stripped  of 
everything  human  except  its  shape,  demons  of  Hell,  and 
Hell  was — Paris. 

The  slaughter  of  the  innocents  had  now  begun  in 
earnest.  Whoever  stood  forth  for  law  and  order,  who^ 
ever  bespoke  mercy  for  others,  whoever  refused  to 
mouth  the  miserable  cant  of  the  day  was  a  "  suspect/'  an 
aristocrat,  a  "  traitor "  to  the  people,  and  stood  forth 
doomed. 

The  life  of  the  Queen,  immured  in  the  Tuilleries 
and  subjected  to  unremitting  torture  through  the  con- 
stant espionage  and  restraints  imposed  upon  her,  was 
even  more  unhappy  that  it  had  been  at  the  Palace  of 
Versailles.  She  was  now  in  constant  dread  of  coming 
evils  presaged  by  those  around  her  who  desired  her  to 
hear  their  cruel  surmises.  For  herself  she  had  almost 
ceased  to  think.  Her  face  had  long  since  lost  its 
insouciant  expression,  and  pale  and  careworn  it  appeared 
day  after  day,  as  she  stood  looking  mournfully  out  upon 
the  gardens  where  she  had  held  so  many  brilliant  lawn 
fetes  before  her  fickle  people  had  tired  of  her.  She  was 
almost  always  silent;  and  a  smile  never  brightened  her 
face. 

Helene,  through  the  influence  of  Mirabeau,  and  of 
another  at  a  later  period,  of  whom  we  shall  yet  speak, 
was  never  interfered  with  in  her  daily  visits,  and  these 
visits  were  positively  the  only  solace  the  keepers  of  the 
Queen  permitted  her. 

Thus  passed  the  slow  revolving  months,  each  one 
bringing  the  doomed  woman  nearer  to  the  guillotine. 
Neither  she  nor  Helene,  however,  had  the  remotest 
notion  that  her  feet  were  drifting  toward  so  fearful  a 
goal;  and  Helene  was  not  without  hope,  secretly  felt 
as  yet  that  she  could  bring  the  Queen  to  consent  to 


2O6  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

escape  from  France.  Meantime,  it  was  necessary  that 
she  should  continue  to  receive,  to  fete,  to  banquet,  those 
who  held  the  reins  of  the  government  such  as  it  was, 
or  who  were  the  first  receptacles  of  the  secrets  of  the 
Commune  and  the  Girondists.  Accordingly,  she  made 
no  change  in  her  social  forms,  but  kept  her  spacious 
chateau  filled  with  the  'elite  of  Paris,  though  necessa- 
rily interspersed  with  a  few  rising  parvenus  like  Dan- 
ton,  a  great,  hulking  young  lawyer  who  was  already 
climbing  toward  the  summit,  albeit  on  the  backs  of  the 
fallen  great.  He  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  the  famous 
house  in  St. '  Germain,  where  his  coarse  features  and 
hoarse  voice  made  him  conspicuous  among  those  who 
tolerated  because  they  feared  him.  Toward  Helene  he 
had  very  soon  manifested  a  depth  of  feeling  which  gave 
her  a  certain  ascendency  over  him,  and  at  a  later  time 
doubtless  saved  her  from  being  carried  down  to  death 
with  the  Queen. 

Sir  Philip  had  become  the  constant  and  recognized 
attendant  of  Helene.  She  freely  called  upon  him  for 
whatever  service  she  desired  him  to  perform  or  consid- 
ered it  safe  for  him  to  undertake,  and  he  obeyed  with  an 
eagerness  that  proved  how  fervid  was  his  interest  in 
serving  her.  Withal,  he  was  never  intrusive,  \vaiting 
for  a  signal  or  invitation  before  seeking  her  ;  a  delicacy 
of  feeling  prompting  him  to  sacrifice  his  own  ardent 
wishes  to  her  convenience  and  inclination.  But  he  was 
quite  as  prompt  to  avail  himself  of  chance  interviews; 
and  there  were  moments,  even  in  the  midst  of  a  throng, 
when  he  found  opportunities  to  lead  her  to  some  out-of- 
the-way  corner,  or  into  some  quiet  spot  in  the  garden  ; 
and  these  moments  were  to  him  of  inestimable  value. 
To  her,  also,  they  were  comforting  and  restful.  Then  all 
the  vivacity  that  seemed  inexhaustible  wrhile  she  was 
surrounded  by  crowds  of  people  left  her,  fell  from  her 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  207 

as  a  mask  whose  uses  are  suspended.  She  became  sub- 
dued, almost  melancholy  ;  and  at  such  times  Belmore 
felt  himself  more  than  repaid  for  his  hours  and  days  of 
waiting  and  longing.  Her  conversation,  when  they 
were  thus  alone  together,  breathed  a  nobility  of  soul,  a 
majesty  of  thought,  a  delicacy  of  sentiment  which 
wreathed  her  with  a  thousand  charms  and  inspired  him 
with  emotions  that  were  as  sweet  as  they  were 
unwonted. 

In  the  meantime,  Mirabeau,  who  was  now  a  colossus 
in  position  as  well  as  in  stature,  was  receiving  much  of 
Helene's  attention.  He  appeared  in  all  her  drawing- 
rooms,  and  was  the  central  figure  always.  To  one  of 
these  stately  gatherings  he  came  prepared  to  arrange 
with  her  the  details  of  a  plan  they  had  already  dis- 
cussed with  several  confidential  friends  who  were  in 
sympathy  with  the  Queen  if  not  with  the  King,  namely, 
the  feasibility  of  the  escape  of  the  royal  family. 

There  was  but  one  way  in  which  these  conspirators 
could  be  brought  together  without  exciting  suspicion, 
and  that  was  by  means  of  a  reception. 

The  fronts  of  the  balconies,  the  facade  of  the  man- 
sion, and  the  main  entrance  were  brightly  illuminated 
on  the  night  of  this  fete.  The  lofty  doors  were  thrown 
open,  and  on  either  side  of  them  a  tall  servant  in  blue 
livery  announced,  one  by  one,  the  persons  or  parties 
who  were  constantly  ascending  the  marble  steps. 
Great  vases  of  marble  and  of  bronze,  filled  with  exot- 
ics, adorned  the  balcony  rails  and  pilasters.  From 
within,  over  a  grand  staircase,  the  softest  music  rippled 
down  in  a  perpetual  cascade  of  sound. 

Carriages  rolled  rapidly  up,  deposited  their  burdens, 
and  as  rapidly  rolled  away.  The  salon,  nearly  one  hun- 
dred feet  in  length  and  nearly  half  as  broad,  was 


2O8  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

thronged  at  10  o'clock  ;  and  it  was  quite  12  ere  the 
arrivals  ceased. 

As  the  night  wore  on,  couple  after  couple  passed  out 
into  the  banquet- room  or  into  the  pavilion  that  enclosed 
the  garden,  and  which  offered  a  delightfully  cool, 
shadowy  and  continuous  promenade. 

This  assemblage  surpassed  every  other  of  the  many 
that  during  that  memorable  time  enjoyed  the  hospital- 
ity of  this  remarkable  woman.  Almost  every  one  of  the 
leading  spirits  of  the  day  was  there.  Numerous  repre- 
sentatives of  the  nobility  gave  splendor  to  the  scene; 
and  scattered  conspicuously  among  the  many  and  lively 
groups  could  be  seen  the  rich  uniforms  of  the  military, 
the  most  interesting  of  whom,  in  the  eyes  of  Mirabeau 
and  of  Helene,  was  a  dark-faced  Corsican  officer,  a  sub- 
lieutenant of  artillery  just  created  major — Napoleon 
Bonaparte,  the  subsequent  master  of  Europe,  who  was 
destined  to  sweep  away  the  feudal  traditions  which  had 
made  serfs  of  the  peoples  of  a  continent. 

Among  others  whose  fortunes  had  raised  them  above 
the  multitude  was  the  Duke  of  Rochefoucalde;  the 
jurist  Malasherbes;  Thomas  Jefferson,  then  United  States 
Minister  to  France;  Champfort,  the  misanthrope,  who 
railed  at  women  because  he  had  tined  of  a  certain  class 
of  the  sex;  Brissot,  who  was  forever  quarreling  with 
Mirabeau  over  the  position  of  the  Jacobins;  Lafayette, 
whose  star  was  at  its  meridian;  Mirabeau — 

But  here  we  will  end  the  list,  since  it  is  Mirabeau  of 
whom  we  are  eager  to  speak,  and  of  whom  we  have 
most  to  relate. 

And  while  the  entrancing  valse  is  engaging  the 
younger  portion  of  this  magnificent  gathering,  we  will 
follow  him  into  the  little  library  room  at  the  end  of  the 
main  corridor,  into  which  Helene  has  drawn  him. 

On  this  gala  night  she   had  found   opportunities  to 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  209 

communicate  with  those  whose  assistance  she  had  asked, 
and  she  now  had  gone  to  him  confident  and  hopeful. 

Without  waiting  for  him  to  introduce  another  and 
more  tender  subject  which  was  trembling  on  his  lips, 
Helene  began  to  broach  the  one  that  wholly  engrossed 
her  own  thoughts:  "How  to  save  the  Queen,  the  King, 
and  the  honor  of  France." 

The  King  was  to  leave  France  with  the  family 
secretly  and  fly  to  the  frontier.  Then  he  was  to  issue 
a  proclamation  to  "  the  people,"  declaring  the  Assembly 
an  unlawful  body  and  dissolving  it.  He  was  to  call 
upon  the  nobles  and  the  heads  of  the  despoiled  clergy 
to  assemble  around  him  for  defense  and  for  the  subjuga- 
tion of  the  rebels.  Mirabeau  was  to  remain  quietly  in 
Paris,  to  watch  the  Assembly  and  report  its  acts. 

"  It  only  remains  to  be  seen,"  said  Helene,  "  whether 
the  King  has  energy  and  decision  enough  to  follow 
instructions.  If  he  has  not,  he  will  make  this  plan  mis- 
carry as  he  has  every  other.  As  for  the  Queen,  undoubt' 
edly  she  has  sufficient  courage  and  character  to  be  relied 
upon;  and'we  must  act  upon  the  King  mainly  through 
her.  You  must  go  to  her,  and  explain  everything  to  her. 
You  will  tell  her  that  you  come  from  me;  it  will  inspire 
her  with  confidence.  Yon  know  what  I  expect  of  you, 
my  friend,  loyalty,  courage,  and  action." 

Mirabeau  had  listened  attentively,  his  heavy  brows 
contracted  with  thought.  Then,  reiterating  his  promises, 
he  carefully  rehearsed  the  details  of  the  plan.  At  first 
he  spoke  as  she  had  spoken,  in  guarded  tones.  But  as 
he  warmed  to  the  subject,  his  voice,  always  resonant, 
rose  to  a  most  imprudent  pitch. 

Helene,  as  soon  as  she  could,  checked  him: 

"Do  not  raise  your  voice  like  that,"  sheremonstated; 
"you  talk  as  loudly  as  if  you  were  addressing  the  Com- 
mons." 


210  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

"Pardon,"  returned  he,  with  a  penitent  look.  "Still 
there  is  no  one  to  hear  us." 

But  as  if  to  rebuke  his  imprudent  confidence,  at  that 
very  moment,  both  of  them  heard,  distinctly  in  the 
adjoining  room,  the  door  of  which  was  shut,  the  sound 
of  a  saber  or  sword  falling  sharply  against  the  door. 

Mirabeau  sprang  to  open  it,  but  it  resisted  his  efforts, 
it  was  locked ;  and  wrhile  he  vainly  tried  to  wrench  it  open, 
the  sound  of  retreating  footsteps  too  well  assured  him 
of  the  recent  presence  of  an  eavesdropper. 

Without  a  word  of  comment  upon  this  ominous 
occurrence,  the  two  gazed  at  each  other  a  moment  with 
troubled  looks  and,  silently  leaving  the  library,  mingled 
composedly  with  the  guests  in  the  refectory. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

DUDEVANT    DISAPPEARS. 

On  the  fifth  day  after  D'Artivan's  interview  with 
Mother  Cartouche,  two  gens  d'armes  went  to  the  lodg- 
ings of  Achille  Dudevant.  They  knocked  at  his  door 
and  were  answered  by  the  concierge,  who  opened  it,  and 
manifested  the  greatest  surprise  on  beholding  the  uni- 
forms and  the  muskets. 

"  Mon  Dieu,"  exclaimed  the  concierge,  in  trepidation; 
"what  is  it  you  want?" 

"We  wish  to  see  Monsieur  Dudevant,"  replied  the 
gens  d'armes,  and  they  pushed  their  way  without  cere- 
mony into  the  room.  No  one  was  there,  and  they  passed 
into  the  bedroom,  the  concierge  following. 

"Well,"  said  the  latter,  reassured  now  that  his  own 
head  was  not  in  request,  "you  see  that  he  is  not  here: 
I  could  have  told  you  that  certainly — " 

"Hold  your  tongue  and  answer  my  questions,"  com- 
manded the  elder  of  the  two  officers,  impatiently. 

The  concierge  shrugged  his  shoulders  satirically  at 
this  difficult  order,  and  was  silent. 

"  Now,  pay  attention,"  began  the  gens  d'armes,  in  a 
sort  of  unison,  which  to  the  concierge  was  very  funny 
indeed;  "where  is  he?" 

"  Oh,  you  think  he  is  hiding,  do  you  ? "  exclaimed  the 
man,  breaking  his  silence  as  though  it  would  be  a  great 
relief  to  speak.  "  Well,  he  is  not  here,  I  tell  you,  and  I 
do  not  know  where  he  is.  He  has  not  been  here  since 
the  day  before  yesterday." 

211 


212  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

"Very  well,"  returned  the  elder  of  the  two,  grimly. 
"  You  will  say  nothing,  when  he  returns,  of  our  visit  or 
errand.  We  will  come  every  evening  after  it  is  dark  to 
inquire  for  him,  and  if  you  inform  him  or  assist  him  in 
concealing  himself — morbleu,  you  had  better  have  a 
priest  ready  to  shrive  you,  do  you  hear  ?" 

"Do  I  hear?  I  should  say  so.  I  could  have  heard 
that  if  it  had  been  whispered  to  me  across  the  Seine," 
grumbled  the  concierge,  as  he  gazed  furtively  after  the 
departing  gens  d'arme's.  "The  devil!  I  always  knew 
that  Dudevant  would  get  himself  in  trouble.  He  is  a 
sly  chap,  and  then  he  comes  in  at  all  hours,  or  not  at  all. 
So.  I  will  keep  his  apartments  one  week.  To  disap- 
pear in  these  times  for  one  week  is  to — well,  it's  the 
same  thing  as  saying  one  is  in  prison  or  dead." 

But  Dudevant  was  in  neither  of  these  extreme  pre- 
dicaments, although  his  position  was  hardly  more  agree- 
able. Dudevant,  in  fact,  had  met  with  an  adventure,  as 
he  was  returning  home  on  the  night  he  disappeared- 
He  had  been  seized  from  behind  while  threading  the 
narrow  alley  called  the  Rue  Polonceau,  thrown  down 
and  hammered  about  the  face  and  body  until  he  was 
insensible  and  covered  with  blood.  Toward  morning 
he  was  found  lying  against  the  wall  of  a  garden,  where 
he  had  evidently  been  attacked;  and  as  his  features  were 
so  swollen,  discolored  and  otherwise  changed  as  to  ren- 
der it  doubtful  whether  or  not  he  could  be  recognized, 
should  they  take  the  trouble  to  attempt  his  identifica- 
tion, the  officers  hailed  a  charette  that  was  passing  the 
corner  of  the  miserable  little  street,  and  took  the  still 
unconscious  journalist  to  that  very  worst  of  hells  in 
Paris,  the  Salpetriere.  Here  they  announced  that 
they  had  a  dead  man  to  deliver  ;  apiece  of  humor  which 
almost  cost  them  the  trouble  of  carting  him  off  again. 

This  institution,  miscalled  a  hospital,  was,  as  it  still 


HELENS   SAINTE    MAUR.  213 

is,  located  in  the  southeast  portion  of  the  city,  on  the 
Boulevarts  St.  Marcel  and  de  1'  Hopital.  It  lies  south 
and  west  of  the  Seine,  and  not  far  from  the  old  barriers. 
To  be  threatened  with  a  trip  to  the  Salspetriere  was  to 
throw  a  sick  person  into  convulsions  or  to  cause  him  to 
"leave  his  bed  and  walk,"  so  infamous  was  its  manage- 
ment, so  abominable  were  its  arrangements,  so  filthy  its 
accommodations.  It  was  a  gloomy  and  forbidding 
place,  and  its  high  dome,  rising  over  everything  else  in 
the  vicinity,  instead  of  a  beacon  of  hope,  was  a  sign 
that  a  Lazar-house  was  near. 

Into  this  fearful  place  Dudevant  was  carried;  and 
here  he  remained  for  weeks  in  a  stupor  before  he 
showed  any  animation  of  either  mind  or  body;  then  he 
remained,  for  months  after  that,  with  a  partial  paraly- 
sis. His  mind  was  in  a  vacuous  state,  his  limbs  were 
flaccid,  he  could  not  use  his  voice.  He  had  been  ter- 
ribly mauled,  and  the  intention  of  his  enemies,  whoever 
they  were,  must  have  been  to  murder  him.  The  innef- 
ficient  treatment  and  careless  nursing  he  received  in  the 
hospital  retarded,  indeed  almost  prevented,  his  recovery. 
But  a  tough  constitution  triumphed  at  last,  and  Dude- 
vant was  pronounced  cured.  When  he  walked  out  of 
the  place  he  stopped  in  the  Jardin  des  Plantes  to  medi- 
tate awhile,  and  inhale  the  fragrant  odors  from  the  grass 
and  flowers.  He  had,  of  course,  no  suspicion  that  the 
gens  d'armes  had  gone  to  arrest  him;  but  he  concluded 
that  if  he  returned  to  his  old  lodgings  he  would  prob- 
ably find  that  his  wardrobe  had  been  sold  for  arrears  of 
rent,  and,  if  the  rooms  had  been  kept  for  him,  the  bill 
would  meet  him  at  the  door  for  a  stiff  balance.  He 
therefore  took  a  thrifty  view  and  went  to  the  extreme 
north,  near  the  Boulevart  St.  Martin,  where  he  pro- 
cured cheap  apartments,  paying  a  month's  rent  for 
them  out  of  the  money  he  had  sewed  up  in  his  clothes, 


214  HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR. 

and  which  had  escaped  the  ghouls  of  the  hospital.  Here 
he  remained  during  the  entire  month  in  complete  seclu- 
sion, rapidly  recuperating  his  depleted  forces.  At  the 
end  of  that  time  he  astonished  his  employers  by  walk- 
ing into  the  Moniteur  office  smiling,  robust,  and  noncha- 
lant. 

But  Dudevant's  enemies  were  not  sleeping  ;  nor  had 
they  forgotten  him.  One  week  later  he  again  disap- 
peared, and  this  time  finally,  as  we  will  explain. 

There  were  seven  of  those  gloomy  tombs  called  pris- 
ons in  the  Capitol,  all  of  which  were  kept  suppli'ed  with 
tenants,  most  of  whom  were  victims  of  the  revolution. 
When  any  one  suddenly  dropped  out  of  sight  during 
this  time  his  friends,  if  he  had  any,  would  go  from  one 
to  the  other  of  these  prisons  to  inquire  for  him.  The 
search  was,  therefore,  necessarily  a  long  and  difficult 
one  in  most  cases,  and  was  often  abandoned  before  it 
was  half  completed,  either  through  discouragement  or 
fear. 

Soon  after  Dudevant's  first  disappearance,  his  two 
friends,  Gascoigne  and  Long  Nose,  becoming  uneasy, 
had  sought  him  at  the  prisons,  making  the  round  with 
indefatigable  energy  and  persistence  ;  but,  of  course, 
had  .heard  nothing,  and  found  no  traces  of  him.  Ob- 
livion— which  dwelt  in  Paris  now,  if  anywhere — had 
effectually  swallowed  him  ;  and  his  friends  gave  up 
their  search. 

When  he  emerged  from  his  retirement  he  sought 
these  two,  and  the  trio  devoted  two  or  three  days  and 
nights  in  celebrating  the  "prodigal's  return."  Dude- 
vant  had  not  told  them  either  of  the  murderous  attack 
that  had  been  made  upon  him,  nor  of  his  long  immure- 
ment within  the  walls  of  Salpetriere.  He  enveloped  the 
whole  matter  in  a  cloak  of  mystery,  and  gave  his  friends 
the  impression  that  his  prolonged  absence  had  been 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  2I<J 

caused  by'"  the  government's  demands  upon  him  as  their 
faithful  and  secret  agent." 

While  he  was  enjoying  the  eclat  from  this  rumor 
he  was  suddenly  lost  sight  of  for  the  second  time;  but, 
instead  of  becoming  uneasy,  and  going  about  as  before, 
with  long  faces  and  anxious  inquiries  after  Dudevant, 
they  shook  their  heads  mysteriously,  winked  and  smiled 
when  questioned  themselves,  and  remarked: 

"  Oh,  that  sly  Achille!  He  is  the  devil  of  a  fellow,  I 
tell  you.  Bah,  let  him  alone,  he  knows  where  he  is,  and 
so  does  the  chief." 

But  one  day  they-  encountered  D'Artivan  in  the 
street.  He  recollected  them  in  a  moment;  a  look  of  sly 
malevolence  crept  into  his  scarred  face,  and  he  stopped 
in  front  of  them. 

"Good  day,  garcons,"  said  he,  with  condescension; 
"you  are  out  for  a  holiday,  then?" 

Gascoigne,  comprehending  this  covert  allusion  to 
their  masquerade  at  the  caf6  of  the  Three  Virgins,  began 
to  bristle. 

"And  you,  Monsieur,  are  out  for  a  'constitutional/  I 
see,"  retorted  he,  staring  significantly  at  the  scar  on 
D'Artivan's  cheek. 

The  latter  turned  scarlet  with  anger. 

"  After  all,"  said  he,  "  it  is  nothing  that  may  not  hap- 
pen to  any  gentleman  who  settles  his  quarrels  with  his 
sword." 

It  should  be  said  here  that  immediately  after  the 
revelation  made  to  him  by  Dudevant,  he  had  gone  to 
Paul  Cambray,  to  worm  out  of  the  latter  a  confession  of 
the  supposed  parts  he  and  Clarise  had  played  in  the 
affair  of  the  duel.  Paul  had  talked  so  innocently  of  it, 
however,  and  had  manifested  such  complete  ignorance 
in  the  case  that  D'Artivan  was  convinced  that  the  story 
Dudevant  had  circulated  was  false  and  malicious,  and 


2l6  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

had  thought  no  more  of  Paul  and  his  fiancee  in  connec- 
tion with  his  disgrace  and  misfortune.     But  his  amour 
.  propre  was  now  about  to  receive  a  second  and  a  final 
shock. 

Gascoigne  laughed  loudly  at  the  Gascon's  last  speech. 

"  Ho,  ho,"  cried  he;  "you  are  becoming  reconciled  to 
your  adversary,  eh  ?  " 

"  Thousand  devils  !  "  snarled  D'Artivan;  "my  adver- 
sary has  not  heard  or  seen  the  last  of  me  yet.  Lately, 
for  a  number  of  months,  I  have  been  after  more  impor- 
tant game  ;  but — " 

"What!"  exclaimed  Gascoigne,  with  a  malicious 
sneer;  "you  would  retaliate  upon  a  girl,  then,  after  she 
has  fairly  beaten  you  with  a  weapon  of  your  own  choos- 
ing? Phew,  what  a  hero  you  are,  va." 

"I  do  not  know  what  you  mean,"  observed  D'Arti- 
van,  looking  sullenly  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  young 
men,  who  were  now  laughing  scornfully. 

"Pshaw!"  sneered  Gascoigne;  "you  still  pretend 
that  you  do  not  know  who  'Monsieur  Dechamp'  was?'* 

"  Come,  you  are  a  droll  fellow!"  chimed  Long  Nose, 
putting  the  tip  of  his  forefinger  to  the  end  of  his  enor- 
mous beak. 

"Thousand  devils! "  shouted  D'Artivan,  whose  mis- 
givings had  all  returned;  "explain  the  meaning  of  all 
this  palaver?" 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  was  the  sarcastic  rejoinder;  "  we 
will  repeat,  and  again  repeat  it,  if  you  desire;  listen: 
you  owe  the  beauty  spot  on  your  cheek  to  a  girl,  Mile. 
Clarise,  the  sweetheart  of  Paul  Cambray,  and  it  was  she 
she,  I  tell  you,  who  put  it  there,  with  her  own  little 
rapier;  and  you  did  not  step  on  a  piece  of  orange  peel, 
either,  voila!" 

D'Artivan  recoiled,  speechless  with  rage.  After  all, 
then,  it  was  true.  He  felt  a  hot  flood  of  hatred  stifling 


HELENE    SAINTE   MAUR.  217 

him.  It  was  true!  He  recollected  now  the  curious  like- 
ness the  young  cavalier  bore  to  some  one  whom  he 
could  not  recall.  It  was  the  bitter  truth.  Well,  he 
could  still  punish  the  girl — through  her  lover,  who  was 
in  fact  the  real  author  of  his  disgrace  and  disfigure- 
ment, the  coward.  Then,  as  the  two  friends  stood  look- 
ing at  him  mockingly,  enjoying  his  discomfiture,  he 
suddenly  bethought  him  of  their  comrade's  misfortune, 
which  he,  D'Artivan,  had  brought  about.  A  malignant 
smile  played  over  his  features  as  he  turned  away  from 
them;  and  twisting  his  head  over  his  shoulder,  with  a 
sardonic  glance  at  them,  he  remarked: 

"And  so  your  friend  Monsieur  Dudevant,  who  was  so 
efficient  and  officious  during  that  stupid  affair  at  the 
cafe,  has  gone  to  serve  scraps  to  the  other  prisoners  at 
the  Conciergerie?" 

"Ha,  what  is  that  you  say?  Dudevant  in  prison?" 
cried  the  two,  running  after  D'Artivan,  their  own  faces 
paling  with  emotions  as  deep  as  his  a  few  moments 
before. 

"You  will  tell  him,  when  you  find  him  there,  that  it 
was  I,  D'Artivan,  who  sent  him  there!"  And  with  this 
rough  response,  the  Gascon  hurried  on,  without  again 
looking  back. 

Gascoigne  and  Long  Nose  stopped  to  consider  what 
was  to  be  done.  Their  faces  were  very  pale;  tears  were 
gathering  in  their  eyes;  they  gazed  sorrowfully  at  each 
other,  and  shook  their  heads  despairingly.  Then  they 
pledged  themselves  to  do  whatever  they  could,  at  once,  to 
save  their  friend,  and  parted  without  hope.  Nor  was 
there  room  for  any;  they  could  not  be  of  the  least  ser- 
vice. Robespierre  and  Danton  were  at  that  period  at 
the  beginning  of  their  feud,  Dudevant  had  been  the 
confidential  agent  of  the  one,  and  Dudevant's  arrest  had 
been  demanded  by  the  gods  of  the  revolution — the  sans 


2l8  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

culottes,  at  the  hands  of  the  other  of  these  two  implaca- 
ble foes.  There  was  therefore  absolutely  no  help  for  the 
journalist. 

His  name  had  been  added  to  the  list  of  condemned, 
and  Robespierre  had  made  no  attempt  to  save  him,  fear- 
ing the  sans  culottes  who  wanted  his  death,  and  caring 
nothing  for  his  dupe,  who  merely  wished  to  live. 

At  the  Concierge,  Dudevant  was  subjected  to  tor- 
ture, in  order  to  force  from  him  criminating  statements 
to  be  used  against  his  masters;  but  his  masters  had 
made  him  their  tool,  and  not  their  confidant,  and  he 
had  really  nothing  to  reveal.  His  torturers  did  not 
believe  him  when 'he  told  them  this.  They  took  him 
back  to  the  long  vault-room,  in  which  he  and  one  hun- 
dred more  occupied  beds  of  straw,  and  promised  him 
another  application  of  the  torture  on  the  next  day 
unless  he  confessed.  They  believed  he  had  become 
such  an  adept  in  lying  that  he  was  still  lying  from  the 
very  stubbornness  of  habit. 

When  his  miserable  companions  saw  him  limping 
toward  one  of  the  straw  pallets,  they  gathered  around 
him  with  expressions  of  sympathy. 

"My  poor  friend/' said  one,  "you  have  then  survived 
it?" 

"Part  of  it,"  replied  Dudevant,  faintly,  but  with 
perfect  sang  froid. 

"What!  are  you  to  go  back?" 

"Yes,  this  is  only  a  respite — if  I  tell  nothing/' 
gasped  he;  "but,  mon  Dieu!  I  have  positively  nothing 
to  tell.  However,  they  will  not  believe  me." 

"  Monstrous ! "  cried  a  score  of  voices.  Poor  wretches ! 
All  their  indignation,  all  their  protests  only  rebounded 
from  the  rough  walls  in  that  dungeon;  they  never 
reached  the  light  of  day  nor  fell  upon  one  merciful 
ear. 


HELKNE    SAINTE    MAUR.  219 

"Well,  how  do  you  feel  now?"  inquired  another  sym- 
pathizer, observing  the  increased  pallor  of  the  latest 
victim . 

But  by  this  time  Dudevant  was  past  answering  with 
his  tongue.  He  was  white  to  his  lips;  he  could  no 
longer  speak.  He  motioned  them  to  bring  him  pen  and 
paper,  knowing  that  some  of  them  had  managed  to  con- 
ceal these  precious  trifles  about  their  person.  When  the 
tablets  and  a  crayon  were  brought  to  him  he  wrote: 

"  I  am  dumb  as  the  child  of  Tantalus,  if  not  as  beau- 
tiful. The  effect  of  that  last  wrench  has  returned  again; 
it  has  taken  my  breath.  As  for  the  condition  of  my 
body,  here  is  a  couplet  you  may  sing  for  your  own 
comfort,  you  who  live  in  expectation  of  acquiring  my 
experience: 

"He  who  is  racked,  released,  and  racked  again, 
Knows  best  the  luxury  of  ease  from  pain." 

"  To  end  with  an  aphorism,  there  is  more  dignity  in 
death  than  in  life." 

On  the  following  day  Dudevant  was  taken  for 
another  trial  of  the  knee-clamp;  but  his  persecutors  were 
overzealous  in  the  application,  and  the  journalist  expired 
in  the  chair. 

The  Marquis  had  disposed  of  one  of  his  enemies,  the 
man  through  whose  means  the  principal  characters  in 
this  historic  tale  were  brought  together. 

Another  of  his  victims,  and  the  most  innocent  of  all, 
was  spon  to  follow  the  first. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE    LEOPARD. 

During  the  residency  of  Louis  XVI.  at  Versailles, 
and  for  some  time  afterwards,  there  was  a  fine  zoolog- 
ical collection  in  a  building  adapted  to  the  purpose,  and 
which  was  called  the  menagerie.  This  building  was 
situated  at  the  end  of  a  conduit  which  crossed  the  grand 
canal,  then  a  popular  boating  ground  for  the  guests  at 
the  palace,  and  it  was  therefore  somewhat  isolated.  At 
night  it  would  have  been  very  quiet  in  its  vicinity  but 
for  the  echoes  of  the  interminable  cries  of  the  savage 
and  restless  beasts. 

The  interior  of  the  building  was  divided  into  two 
large  portions,  one  of  which  was  arranged  for  winter 
and  the  other  for  summer  use.  Three  care-takers  were 
employed,  a  head  keeper  and  two  assistants,  whose  lodg- 
ings were  several  hundred  feet  from  the  building. 
After  feeding  and  leaving  water  for  their  "  family,"  as 
these  keepers  were  in  the  habit  of  calling  their  unruly 
charges,  they  left  the  building  at  sunset,  and  went  to 
their  own  quarters  for  the  night.  The  place  was  con- 
sequently deserted  and  closed  between  dusk  and  day- 
break; but  during  the  day  the  menagerie  was  accessible 
to  any  one  who  chose  to  visit  it. 

Among  the  animals  there  confined  was  a  full-grown 
leopard,  a  present  to  the  King  from  an  Indian  Rajpoot. 
It  was  an  exceedingly  fierce  brute,  possessed  astonish- 
ing strength,  and  was  believed  to  be  untamable.  On 

account  of  its  ferocious  disposition  it  was  regarded  by 

220 


HEl.LNE    SAINTE   MAUR.  221 

the  keepers  with  the  greatest  aversion  and  even  fear, 
although  it  was  confined  in  an  unusually  strong  cage. 
This  cage  was  placed  at  the  extreme  end  of  .the  passage) 
on  either  side  of  which  the  animals  were  ranged  ;  and 
opposite  was  another  cage  of  exactly  similar  size,  con- 
struction and  appearance,  in  which  until  recently  a 
harmless  chimpanzee  had  been  kept.  Both  these  cages 
rested  on  small  iron  wheels,  so  that  they  could  be  easily 
rolled  to  any  spot  desired  without  much  effort.  The 
bars  were  rather  too  far  apart — about  four  inches  and  a 
half  ;  and  the  only  entrance  was  through  a  small  wicket, 
secured  by  a  strong  bolt. 

The  leopard  appeared  to  be  forever  in  motion,  trot- 
ting back  and  forth  the  length  of  its  cell,  or  leaping 
with  lightning-like  bounds  against  the  latticed  bars, 
while  it  uttered  the  most  terrific  and  piercing  cries  of 
rage  or  disappointment. 

Months  had  elapsed  after  the  removal  of  the  royal 
family  from  Versailles,  and  the  ancient  seat  of  the  Grand 
Monarque  had  once  more  resumed  its  solitary  aspect, 
despite  the  magnificence  which  remained. 

On  a  bright  morning  in  January,  after  the  chateau 
had  been  closed,  a  showily-dressed  man  was  idly  saun- 
tering toward  the  building  we  have  described.  He  had 
wandered  for  an  hour  or  more  through  the  winding 
paths  of  the  gardens,  where  a  mournful  solitude 
brooded,  and  was  now  approaching  the  menagerie,  with 
the  apparent  purpose  of  looking  at  the  animals,  whose 
cries  had  attracted  him. 

As  he  walked  through  the  passage,  glancing  care- 
lessly at  the  restless  prisoners  on  either  side,  and  laugh- 
ing at  the  snarling  manner  in  which  they  greeted  him, 
he  was  suddenly  assailed  by  an  outburst  of  fury  from 
the  leopard's  cage. 

"  Morbleu,  what  a  monster!  "  exclaimed  he,  stopping 


222  HELENE    SAINTE   MAUR. 

abruptly  in  front  of  the  brute.  As  he  stared  at  it,  with 
a  feeling  of  awe  at  first,  then  of  fascination,  the  leopard 
trotted  slowly  to  the  wicket,  and,  crouching  down  with 
its  muzzle  to  the  floor,  steadily  regarded  him  in  its 
turn,  mute  and  motionless. 

For  several  minutes  the  man  stood  thus,  never  mov- 
ing his  eyes  from  the  ferocious  visage,  while  its  green 
eyeballs  blazed  into  his,  intense,  searching,  dilating. 
It  really  seemed  as  if  these  two,  the  man  and  the  brute, 
were  moved  at  the  same  moment  by  the  same  impulse; 
that  they  recognized  each  other,  or  were,  by  this  mute 
and  prolonged  interchange  of  glances,  establishing  an 
acquaintance. 

Up  to  this  time  the  man  had  seen  no  one  in  the  build- 
ing. He  had  entered  by  the  open  door,  and  had  reached 
this  remote  corner  of  the  passage  without  encountering 
any  one.  Now,  while  he  stood  absorbed  in  the  con- 
templation of  his  terrible  viz-a-viz,  he  was  startled  by 
the  sound  of  a  surly  voice  behind  him,  and  turning 
hastily  he  saw  issuing  from  the  opposite  cage  a  short, 
muscular  man  of  about  forty,  very  dark-skinned  and 
sullen-featured,  who  came  slowly  toward  him.  This 
individual  carried  his  head  in  a  peculiarly  drooping 
fashion,  as  if  he  desired  to  hide  his  face  from  observa- 
tion, or  to  avoid  conversation.  In  his  hands  he  carried 
some  tools  he  had  been  repairing. 

"  Pardieu!  "  exclaimed  he,  in  an  exceedingly  husky 
voice,  at  the  same  time  raising  his  head  sideways  and 
upward,  that  he  might  peer  into  the  face  of  the  stranger 
without  exposing  his  own  to  scrutiny;  "Monsieur  must 
be  a  tamer  of  beasts.  " 

This  unexpected  compliment  evidently  pleased  the 
other,  for  a  slight  blush  tinged  his  cheeks,  while  he 
assumed  an  air  of  importance  at  once. 

"Oh,"  returned  he,  superciliously;   "I   confess  I  pos- 


HELENF.  SAINTE    MAUR.  223 

sess  a  certain  kind  of  power  over  wild  animals.  It  is  a 
gift,  you  know." 

The  keeper  surveyed  him  out  of  his  stealthy  eyes 
with  something  between  doubt  and  admiration;  then  his 
gaze  wandered  to  the  leopard  which  still  lay  crouched 
upon  the  floor,  slowly  beating  its  flexible  tail,  but  utter- 
ing no  cries,  showing  no  fangs,  its  half-closed  eyes  fol- 
lowing the  slightest  movements  of  the  stranger  with  an 
interest  that  seemed  human. 

The  under-keeper,  astonished  at  this  apparent 
docility  of  the  dreaded  monster,  turned  again  to  the 
visitor,  and  regarded  him  with  eager  curiosity. 

"Yes,  you  have  it,  you  have  it,"  he  repeated  to  him- 
self, excitedly;  then: 

"Well,  if  you  could  teach  another  person  how  to 
tame  that  miserable  brute  there,  for  instance? " 

He  pointed  with  his  black  forefinger  at  the  leopard, 
as  it  lay  with  its  head  between  its  outstretched  paws, 
blinking  silently  at  the  stranger. 

"That  would  not  be  possible,  I  fear,"  replied  the 
latter,  unwilling  to  expose  his  false  pretensions;  "you 
can  not  impart  a  gift,  though  you  may  serve  others  by 
the  exercise  of  it  sometimes.  Perhaps  I  may  render  that 
service  to  you  soon,  by  subduing  this  leopard,  which  I 
perceive  is  a  splendid  subject.  I  should  like,  at  some 
time  or  other,  to  try  the  exercise  of  my  power  on  him." 

"  Ma  foi  ! "  observed  the  under-keeper,  with  an 
emphatic  gesture;  "  that  would  be  fine.  Yes,  yes,  I 
should  like  that.  Do  you  know,"  continued  he,  follow- 
ing a  few  steps  after  the  "  tamer  of  beasts,"  who  was 
desirous  of  getting  safely  away  with  his  honors,  "that 
varmint  is  the  plague  of  my  life.  Some  fine  day  I  expect 
it  will. get  out  of  its  cage,  and  then — my  God  !  " 

The  very  horror  of  his  thoughts  deprived  the  man  of 
any  further  speech.  He  went  on  no  further,  but 


224  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

abruptly  turned  around,  and  peered  shudderingly  at 
the  still  silent  leopard,  which  was  now  standing  on  all 
fours  and  watching  him  through  the  wide  bars  of  its 
prison.  • 

The  stranger  had  also  turned  abruptly.  But  instead 
of  the  leopard  it  was  the  under-keeper  who  engaged  his 
attention  now. 

"  Why  do  you  think  it  possible  for  the  leopard  to 
escape  from  its  cage  ? "  asked  he,  in  a  singularly  altered 
voice.  For  an  instant,  the  under-keeper  felt  inclined  to 
suspect  that  after  all  this  stranger  was  himself  afraid  of 
the  brute;  but  he  answered: 

"  Sacre  !  I  have  seen  him  run  his  muzzle  between 
the  bars,  seize  the  bolt  of  the  wicket  in  his  mouth,  and 
move  it  forward  and  backward  in  the  socket  just  as 
if  he  was  testing  it.  He  seems  to  have  the  sense  of  a 
man,  pardi." 

"  So  he  has,"  assented  the  stranger,  gravely.     Then: 

"Are  all  the  other  cages  well  secured  ?"  inquired  he. 

"Perfectly  so," responded  the  under-keeper,  emphat- 
ically. "Bah!  it  would  not  be  myself,  Vincent  Mor- 
ceau,  who  would  come  in  here  alone  at  the  first  streak 
of  the  day,  if  some  of  these  prowlers  had  a  chance  to 
mount  my  back." 

"So,  then,  there  is  no  one  here  at  night?" 

The  under-keeper  laughed  boisterously. 

"What!  Do  you  think  the  howls  of  thest:  brutes  are 
lullabies  to  put  people  to  sleep?  These  walls  are  thick, 
I  tell  you,  but  still  they  do  not  prevent  us  from  hearing 
when  the  she-tiger  and  this  'miserable'  join  in  a  little 
concert — pardieu,  no!  " 

The  visitor  reflected. 

"And  your  name  is  Morceau,  is  it?"  observed  he, 
abruptly  looking  up. 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  225 

"Did  I  say  so,  then?  Certainly,  my  name  is  Mor- 
ceau;  and  what  may  Monsieur's  be?" 

"Oh,"  replied  the  stranger,  hesitatingly,  as  if  he 
wished  for  time  to  coin  a  name,  "  my  name  is  of  no  con- 
sequence. However,  it  is  at  your  service — it  is  Fer- 
dean." 

"  Ferdean,"  repeated  the  under-keeper,  musingly; 
"that  is  an  odd  name.  I  have  heard  it  before — I  can  not 
tell  where.  Very  well,  Monsieur  Ferdean,  I  shall  not 
forget  you." 

"Nor  I  you,  Monsieur  Morceau,"  rejoined  the  other, 
with  sudden  cordiality. 

"  And  I  hope,  Monsieur  Ferdean,  that  you  will  come 
here  again  and  tame  for  me  that  devil  of  a  leopard." 

"  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  I  shall  do  so,  my  friend; 
and  if  I  conclude  accordingly,  I  shall  let  you  know  the 
day  before  I  come  for  that  purpose,  so  that  we  may 
make  suitable  arrangements.  In  the  meantime,  say 
nothing  about  this  to  any  one.  I  do  not  wish  any  noto- 
riety in  the  matter;  and  besides,  if  I  tame  the  leopard, 
the  credit  shall  be  yours." 

"  Mon  Dieu,  do  you  say  so?"  cried  the  under-keeper, 
quivering  with  delight.  "  Ho,  ho,  I  shall  certainly  get 
a  place,  then,  in  the  Jardin  des  Plantes,  when  this  place 
is  shut  up,  as  it  is  going  to  be." 

"  That  will  be  excellent,"  remarked  the  visitor,  as  he 
passed  out  of  the  building. 

No  sooner  had  the  latter  emerged  into  the  grounds 
than  his  manner  underwent  as  sudden  and  great  a 
change  as  his  voice  had  done  a  few  minutes  before.  His 
countenance  grew  pale  to  ghastliness,  his  eyes  assumed 
a  wild  expression,  there  was  in  them  a  mingling  of  terror 
and  ferocity.  He  began  to  move  at  a  faster  and  faster 
pace  toward  the  inn,  where  he  had  left  his  horse;  and  by 
the  time  he  had  reached  it  he  was  running.  In  a  very 


226  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

few  minutes  he  was  mounted,  and  dashing  at  headlong 
speed  toward  Paris. 

This  man  was  D'Artivan.  He  had  come  to  Versailles, 
as  many  other  idlers  had  since  the  desertion  of  the  court, 
with  no  other  object  than  to  wander  over  the  place.  It 
was  his  habit  to  hover  about  the  habitations  of  the 
nobility,  and  Versailles  at  that  time  had  many  noble 
residences,  some  of  which  had  not  yet  been  closed  up. 
D'Artivan  had  stopped  at  an  inn,  gossiped  with  the  inn- 
keeper's wife,  wandered  araund  the  gardens  (to  which 
he  was  admitted  through  the  influence  of  a  livre),  and 
by  rnjere  chance  had  happened  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
menagerie.  That  visit  was  to  produce  consequences  at 
once  frightful  and  unheard  of. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

D'ARTIVAN'S  PLOT. 

A  week  had  elapsed  after  the  visit  of  D'Artivan  to 
the  menagerie  at  Versailles,  when  that  individual  called 
one  evening  upon  Paul  Cambray,  apparently  teeming 
with  a  subject  which  he  was  in  a  hurry  to  discuss  with 
his  friend.  Unfortunately,  Paul  was  at  home. 

D'Artivan  greeted  him  with  more  than  usual  friend- 
liness. 

"My  dear  friend,"  said  he,  laying  his  hand  upon  the 
young  man's  shoulder  with  smiling  familiarity,  "  I  have 
just  been  making  a  little  bet  for  your  benefit." 

"  A  bet  ?    But  you  know  I  never  bet.    And  besides — " 

"Oh,  you  need  not  be  alarmed,  my  dear  boy,  you  at 
least  will  not  have  it  to  pay  ;  although  it  rests  with  you, 
absolutely  with  you,  whether  I  win  or  lose." 

"I low  is  that?"  demanded  Paul,  feeling  a  little 
vague  uneasiness. 

"  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it.  You  know  that  Michelet, 
who  always  sings  through  his  nose  when  he  sees  you  ?  " 

Paul  frowned.  The  sound  of  that  name  was  a  net- 
tle; it  stung  his  pride.  D'Artivan  saw  the  frown,  and 
passed  his  hand  over  his  mouth  to  conceal  the  smile  of 
satisfaction  which  he  could  not  repress. 

"Oh,  you  remember  his  impudence.  For  instance, 
when  he  went  with  us  to  see  the  Bengal  tiger  in  the 
Janlin  des  Plantes,  he  was  watching  you  more  than  the 
beasts,  and  sneering  at  every  movement  you  made. 
While  there,  he  said  to  me,  aside  : 

327 


228        „  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

"  '  It  is  singular,  the  startling  effect  which  the  cries  of 

wild  beasts  have  upon  some  people.     Did    you    observe 

just  now,  when  the  tiger  gave  that  tremendous  roar,  how 

your  little    friend  Paul-ine    started  back   and    actually 

•rarned  pale?' ' 

Upon  hearing  this  canard,  which  D'Artivan  repeated 
or  invented  with  many  grimaces  intended  to  show  how 
he  had  listened  to  the  aspersion,  Paul  grew  not  pale  but 
red,  and  clinched  his  fist. 

"He  lied!"  exclaimed  he,  between  his  teeth. 

"I  believe  so,"  remarked  his  friend,  carelessly;  "still, 
it  was  a  slur  that  called  for  a — well,  for  something  more 
than  a  rebuke.  As  your  friend,  I  felt  it  necessary  to 
prove  him  a  liar  instead  of  calling  him  one,  do  you  see? 
An  idea  struck  me:. 'Have  you  ever  been  to  the  little 
menagerie  at  Versailles? '  I  asked  him.  He  said  he  had. 
Then  I  said  to  him  :  'Very  good;  you  have  seen  there 
the  leopard  that  came  from  Rohilcund.  Now,  I  will 
wager  you  ten  louis  d'ors  that,  if  I  ask  him  to  do  so,  he 
will  spend  the  night  with  me  in  front  of  the  leopard's 
cage." 

"  'And  how  many  keepers  will  your  friend  Paul-ine 
require  to  stay  with  him  and  protect  him  from  the  bark 
of  the  beast?'  asked  the  sneering  fellow. 

"'None,'  I  replied,  feeling  very  much  like  curling  his 
ears.  '  Paul  and  I  will  be  there  alone,  and  the  outer 
door  will  be  locked,  as  it  always  is.' 

Well,  Michelet  accepted  my  wager,  directly,  and  said 
to  me,  with  another  provoking  sneer: 

"  '  Mon  Dieu!  if  your  little  Paul-ine  does  that,  you 
will  find  him  in  the  morning  with  his  head  wrapped  up 
in  his  coat.' " 

"Serpent!"  hissed  Paul,  irrelevantly. 

"Oh,  I  could  have  knocked  him  down;  but  that 
would  not  have  silenced  his  tongue.  Besides,  I  knew 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  229 

you,  and  I  said  to  myself,  'I  will  punish  this  impudent 
slanderer,  by  winning  his  ten  louis  which  he  can  not 
afford  to  lose;  and,  since  I  do  not  need  them,  and  it  will 
in  fact  be  Paul,  my  friend,  who  will  earn  them,  they  will 
be  his  to  spend — on  his  adorable  Clarise.'  Well,  we  were* 
to  have  met  the  next  day  at  Versailles,  to  arrange  the 
matter  with  the  keeper  and  so  on.  But  an  accident 
kept  me  from  keeping  the  appointment;  and  the  next 
day  I  found  a  note  on  my  table,  saying  that  he  had 
waited  for  me,  and,  as  I  did  not  come,  he  supposed  you 
had  refused  to  go,  just  as  he  thought  you  would.  Also, 
that  he  was  going  out  of  the  city  for  a  fortnight.  I  was 
greatly  annoyed.  Your  reputation  was  at  stake,  do  you 
see?  So  I  watched  for  his  return,  and  yesterday  I  met 
him  in  the  Champ  de  Mars.  He  gave  me  bon  jour,  and 
all  at  once  he  began  to  laugh,  clapped  me  on  my  arm, 
and  said: 

"  '  How  is  it,  my  poor  Victor,  that  you  are  always  in 
the  company  of  that  young  Cambray,  who  has  the  face 
of  a  girl,  and  is  so  nervous  that  he  can  not  drink  out  of 
a  full  glass?' ' 

"What !  did  the  scoundrel  say  that?"  shouted  Paul, 
rising  and  walking  wildly  about  the  room. 

"Those  were  his  words.  Well,  I  explained  to  him 
why  I  had  been  unable  to  meet  him  as  agreed,  and 
insisted  on  his  going  to  Versailles  with  me  at  once.  We 
went  there  and  arranged  everything.  You  are  to  go 
with  me  to-morrow  afternoon  at  two,  in  a  cabriolet." 

Paul  hesitated  for  several  moments  before  he  con- 
sented to  this  arrangement.  Finally,  as  the  picture  of 
the  sneering  Michelet,  who  sang  through  his  nose  when- 
ever they  met,  arose  before  him,  he  came  up  to  the  Gas- 
con and,  holding  out  his  hand  with  a  flourish,  said  : 

"It  is  agreed;  and  if  after  that  this  Michelet  dares 
to  continue  slandering  me — " 


230  IIELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

He  did  not  finish  the  ominous  sentence,  but  shook 
his  head  menacingly,  and  twisted  his  moustache  with  an 
energy  that  spoke  of  the  code. 

At  six  o'clock  on  the  evening  after  this  interview  the 
two  friends  rode  up  to  the  inn  where  D'Artivan  had 
previously  stopped,  and  the  latter,  leaving  Paul  there, 
drove  off  toward  the  canal.  It  was  dark  when  he  returned 
and  with  a  surprising  amount  of  haste  he  assisted 
Paul  into  the  cabriolet  and  started  again  toward  the 
canal.  When  they  arrived  at  the  building  containing 
the  animals,  D'Artivan  (who  had  dispensed  with  a  driver) 
drove  to  a  clump  of  trees  some  distance  away,  and,  leav- 
ing the  conveyance  there,  the  two  proceeded  to  the  side 
entrance  of  the  building.  D'Artivan  produced  a  key, 
and  in  a  few  moments  they  were  standing  before  the 
cage  of  a  leopard,  over  which  the  under-keeper  had  left 
a  lantern  suspended  and  brightly  burning.  Paul 
shivered  a  little  as  he  looked  around  him,  and  this  sensa- 
tion increased  to  a  tremor  as  he  gazed  into  the  eyes  of  the 
leopard,  which  in  their  turn  were  regarding  him  wiHi  an 
extremely  hungry  expression. 

D'Artivan  had  scarcely  spoken  from  the  time  they 
had  started  from  the  inn;  and  Paul  soon  recovered  him- 
self while  amusedly  observing  his  friend's  apparent 
nervousness.  Immediately  his  manner  became  bold; 
and  his  voice  had  a  confident  tone  as  he  asked: 

"  Can  we  sleep  in  here  !  " 

"Certainly,"  answered  his  friend,  quickly;  "we  are 
to  sleep  in  this  cage  opposite.  See,  I  have  had  two 
bundles  of  straw  placed  in  it.  The  pile  further  back 
from  the  wicket  is  yours.  Let  us  get  in,  and  we  can 
talk  until  we  become  sleepy.  Besides,  we  shall  not  be 
so  likely  to  disturb  these  brutes,  who  are  the  very  devil 
for  noise  when  they  are  roused." 

Paul  crept   through  the  open  wicket  to  his  bed  of 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  231 

straw  at  once,  D'Artivan  following.  The  latter  then 
took  from  his  pocket  a  flask,  which  he  handed  to  Paul, 
remarking: 

"  It  is  a  fine  cordial;  it  will  keep  the  dampness  out 
of  our  lungs,  and  make  our  sleep  the  sounder.  We  have 
nothing  to  fear  here,  you  see,  since  we  have  only  to  fas- 
ten our  wicket — so,  and  here  we  are." 

D'Artivan  closed  and  bolted  the  wicket,  and  then,  half 
reclining  on  the  straw,  began  to  gossip  in  a  jocular 
strain.  But  his  voice  had  an  unnatural  sound,  it  quav- 
ered, and  sometimes  entirely  died  away,  as  though  his 
breath  had  failed.  Paul  remarked  this,  and  also  the 
trembling  of  his  hands,  and,  wondering  at  his  friend  who 
seemed  to  have  less  nerve  than  himself,  took  a  liberal 
draught  from  the  flask,  and  passed  it,  observing: 

"  This  is  excellent  stuff;  it  is  a  perfect  warming-pan." 

D'Artivan  held  the  flask  in  both  hands  as  he  put  the 
mouth  of  it  to  his  own  lips,  and,  after  holding  it  there 
for  some  seconds,  placed  the  stopper  in  it  and  returned 
it  to  his  pocket. 

Everything  in  the  place  was  now  silent.  Only  the 
hoarse  breathing,  or  an  occasional  deep  yawn,  and  a 
restless  movement  now  and  then,  came  from  the  cages. 
Both  men  had  relapsed  into  silence  also.  Soon  Paul's 
head  began  to  droop;  in  a  few  minutes  he  sank  gently 
on  his  side.  He  was  soundly  sleeping. 

D'Artivan  had  not  closed  his  eyes;  he  had  kept  them 
steadily  fixed  upon  his  friend's  face,  with  a  sort  of  glare. 
It  reminded  one  of  the  expression  on  the  visage  of  the 
leopard,  when  it  stood  with  its  muzzle  at  the  wicket  an 
hour  before. 

When  Paul  began  to  breathe  heavily,  D'Artivan  rose 
up  softly  from  his  straw,  without  rustling  it  in  the  least. 
Then  he  unbolted  the  wicket  and  slipped  outside  of  the 
cage.  He  drew  the  wicket  to  and  bolted  it  again  ir°*n 


232  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

the  outside,  after  which  he  went  behind  the  cage,  and, 
putting  his  shoulder  against  the  thick  cross-bar,  pushed 
it  slowly  and  noiselessly  toward  the  cage  of  the  leopard. 
The  bed  of  straw  upon  which  Paul  lay  sleeping  was  so 
arranged  that  his  head  rested  against  the  bars;  and 
D'Artivan  was  deliberately  steering  the  cage  so  that 
this  end  of  it  would  touch  the  corresponding  end  of  the 
cage  of  the  leopard. 

In  the  meantime,  the  great  brute  was,  to  all  appear- 
ances, asleep;  but,  in  fact,  the  animal's  eyes  were  not 
entirely  closed,  and  it  was  awake  and  alert,  after  the 
manner  of  its  tribe.  It  was  watching  D'Artivan;  but 
it  neither  moved  nor  uttered  a  sound. 

At  length,  the  two  cages  touched;  they  came  together 
with  a  slight  jar;  and  the  leopard,  which  had  been 
lying  down  in  the  position  a  sleeping  hound  assumes, 
raised  its  head,  beat  the  floor  with  its  tail  and  rose  upon 
its  four  feet.  Its  green  eyes  were  shimmering  like  two 
immense  emeralds  in  the  shadow  in  which  it  stood, 
and  they  were  turned  full  upon  the  Gascon. 

The  latter  also  kept  his  gaze  concentrated  upon  the 
monster's  front;  and  when  the  cages  were  joined,  he 
began  to  walk  backward  toward  the  lateral  passage, 
until  he  reached  the  door  by  which  he  and  his  friend 
had  entered.  With  his  hand  thrust  behind  him,  he 
opened  it,  quickly  passed  out  and  closed  it,  locking  it 
and  withdrawing  the  key. 

No  sooner  had  D'Artivan  disappeared,  than  the 
leopard  began  to  utter  a  succession  of  low,  whining 
sounds,  and  to  manifest  an  uneasiness  by  sniffing  the 
air,  and  rubbing  its  nose  between  the  bars  of  the  two 
cells.  Then,  suddenly  bristling,  and  curving  its  back 
in  a  peculiar  manner  it  slowly  trotted  to  the  farther 
end  of  the  cage,  crouched  down  upon  its  belly,  and 
began  to  crawl  toward  the  unconscious  sleeper.  When 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  233 

it  was  within  a  foot  of  the  bars  it  suddenly  sprang  upon 
its  feet,  with  a  shrill,  hissing  sound,  and,  lifting  its  terri- 
ble paw,  armed  with  five  talons  as  strong  and  sharp  as 
the  point  of  a  steel  poniard,  the  monster  dashed  it 
between  the  bars.  It  descended  full  upon  the  throat 
of  the  sleeper,  and  at  the  same  instant  a  roar  issued 
from  its  own  which  was  heard  by  the  under-keeper  out- 
side of  the  thick  walls  and  a  hundred  yards  away. 

The  under-keeper  turned  over  on  his  side,  smiled  in 
his  semi-sleep,  and  muttered: 

"Aha,  the  tamer  of  beasts  is  there!  I  shall  have  the 
place." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

DOCTOR  SOUCHON. 

On  the  night  during  which  the  strange  and  desper- 
ate scene  we  are  about  to  describe  was  enacted  the  res- 
idence of  Doctor  Souchon  was  preternaturally  dark. 
Not  even  a  glimmer  of  light  was  visible  through  the 
chinks  of  the  solid  oaken  shutters  which  hermetically 
sealed  the  gloomy  and  mould-stained  walls.  Nor  was 
there  a  sound  from  within  to  denote  that  the  house  had 
so  much  as  a  mouse  for  an  occupant. 

But,  silent  and  deserted  as  the  doctor's  abode 
appeared,  this  dearth  of  life  and  light  was  only  apparent. 

In  a  large  upper  room,  which  was  almost  destitute  of 
furniture  and  resembling  more  the  immense  laboratory 
of  an  alchemist  than  anything  else,  three  persons  faced 
each  other.  One  of  these  persons  was  the  master  of 
the  house — the  surgeon  who  had  attended  the  wounded 
D'Artivan  at  the  cafe  of  the  Three  Virgins  ;  the  sec- 
ond was  Captain  Felix  Dumesnil ;  the  third  was — Victor 
D'Artivan. 

In  a  dimly  lighted  room  below,  and  \vhich  was  filled 
with  the  massive  and  sombre  furniture  of  the  period,  sat 
a  young  girl  dressed  in  mourning,  and  kneeling  at  a  bier 
in  the  centre  of  the  apartment,  upon  which  was  stretched 
a  headless  body  covered  with  a  black  pall.  The  long 
veil  of  the  girl  swept  the  heavy  carpet ;  her  figure  was 
bowed  over  the  breast  of  the  corpse  upon  which  her 
folded  arms  rested,  and  her  white  forehead  rested  upon 
her  arms.  She  was  weeping,  not  boisterously,  but 

234 


HELENE    SAINTE   MAUR.  235 

silently.  At  short  intervals  a  shudder  convulsed  her 
form,  and  a  stifled  sob  escaped  from  her  bosom. 

At  a  quarter  past  midnight  the  three  persons  in  the 
room  above  were  enacting  a  most  remarkable  scene. 

Half  a  dozen  candles  in  sconces  afforded  an  imper- 
fect light,  throwing  outside  of  their  radiance  grotesque 
and  shifting  shadows. 

At  one  end  of  this  melancholy  chamber  knelt  the 
murderer  of  Paul  Cambray.  His  upturned  face  was 
ashen,  even  to  the  lips  ;  its  expression  was  that  of  the 
wildest  terror.  His  eyes,  distended  and  glittering, 
seemed  straining  to  fly  from  their  sockets.  His  writh- 
ing hands,  raised  to  the  level  of  his  eyes,  opened  and 
closed  continually,  as  if  endeavoring  by  pantomime  to 
convey  what  his  dumb  lips  refused  to  pronounce. 

In  front  of  this  man,  towering  over  him  like  a  priest 
of  the  Inquisition,  stood  the  surgeon,  Souchon.  Robed 
in  a  black  woollen  gown  shaped  like  a  gaberdine  and 
reaching  to  his  slippered  feet,  his  head  covered  with  a 
skull  cap  of  the  same  stuff  and  color,  he  appeared  not 
unlike  .one  of  those  Chaldean  oracles  who  gave  courage 
to  the  armies  of  Darius  or  inspired  them  with  despair. 
His  tall  figure  was  more  imposing  in  this  strange  garb, 
his  austere  features  more  grim  and  repellant.  In  his 
hand  he  held  a  small  ebony  cane,  with  the  point  of 
which  he  touched  at  intervals  a  button  in  a  powerful 
battery  which  stood  on  a  table  at  his  side.  At  every 
siu-h  movement,  D'Artivan  uttered  a  scream  of  agony, 
\vliile  his  body  shook  as  with  an  ague,  and  not  without 
on. 

A  long  copper  wire,  the  ends  of  which  were  con- 
nected with  the  poles  of  the  battery,  formed  a  large  loop 
at  its  center,  and  this  1  .op  encircled  the  neck  of  the 
Gascon.  At  every  touch  of  the  button,  a  current  of 
electric  fire  darted  along  the  wire,  scorching  his  throat, 


236  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

and  leaving  a  white  cicatrice  around  it.  Three  of  these 
rings  were  already  broadly  defined  above  his  velvet  col- 
lar, which  was  pushed  down,  leaving  his  neck  bare  to 
the  shoulders. 

Behind  the  grim  inquisitor  stood  the  gigantic  Dumes- 
nil,  with  arms  folded,  and  with  his  penetrating  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  face  of  the  quivering  victim.  His  stern  fea- 
tures were  immobile,  rigid  as  the  mask  of  Fate  itself. 

The  silence  in  the  chamber  at  that  moment  was 
frightful;  it  portended  so  much.  Suddenly  it  was 
broken,  for  the  fourth  time: 

"Confess!" 

This  one  word,  pronounced  in  a  terrible  undertone 
by  the  surgeon,  was  repeated  for  the  fourth  time.  It 
had  followed  every  appeal  of  D'Artivan  for  mercy. 
Then,  silence  again. 

The  murderer  presented  a  pitiable  appearance.  His 
rich  garments,  soiled  by  the  thick  dust  from  the  bare 
floor,  and  torn  in  many  places  by  a  struggle  that  had 
evidently  taken  place,  seemed  to  mock  his  abject  state 
and  humble  attitude.  The  sparkle  of  the  jewels  on  his 
embroidered  collar — Ferdean's  jewels — was  like  that 
from  the  laughing  eye  of  a  devil  gloating  over  his 
sufferings. 

He  was  faint  with  terror,  he  was  weak  fn)m  the 
struggle  in  which  he  had  been  bent  and  twisted  and 
thrown  into  a  heap  upon  the  oak  boards  of  the  floor  by 
the  Hercules  who  had  seized  him  in  the  street  and 
borne  him  into  this  house  of  doom.  He  would  have 
fallen  forward  upon  his  face,  but  that  the  horrible  neck- 
lace, instinct  as  it  was  with  life,  like  a  human  hand  held 
him  upright,  while  it  burned  his  flesh. 

"Confess!" 

Such  was  the  command,  uttered  by  the   inexorable 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  237 

voice  that  grew  sterner  with  each  repetition  of  the 
word. 

"Oh,  mercy,  mercy  !  "  shrieked  the  wretch,  twining 
his  long  fingers  together,  unmindful  of  the  bruises  they 
received  from  the  costly  rings — Ferdean's  rings,  which 
glittered  upon  them. 

The  fearful  wand  was  raised. 

"  Oh,  God  !  Mercy — mercy  !  I  did  not  mean  to  kill 
him  !  " 

"  He  was  your  friend," 

The  measured  tones  were  hoarse,  as  they  left  the 
white,  set  lips  of  Dumesnil. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  wailed  the  murderer;  "  but  I  did  not  mean 
to  kill  him,  I  tell  you  !  " 

Again  spoke  his  inexorable  judge: 

"  He  was  your  friend  ;  and  he  gave  you  his  confi- 
dence." 

"  But  I,  I  spent  money  upon  him,  I  befriended  him." 

"  Yes,  that  you  might  the  more  surely  enmesh  him. 
You  enveigled  him  to  his  death;  you  assisted  at  or  you 
caused  his  murder.  He  trusted  you,  and  you  betrayed 
him  to  his  death." 

"  But  I  did  not.  It  was  he  who  proposed  to  go  to 
Versailles,  to  enter  the  cage,  to  remain  there  all  night. 
I  could  not  dissuade  him,  and  I  remained  awhile  with 
him,  and — and  left  him — left  him  all  right." 

"You  hated  him." 

"  Oh,  it  is  true  I  was  jealous  of  him,  and  he — he 
wronged  me." 

"  He  was  your  friend." 

Again  those  ominous  words,  sad  in  their  meaning, 
terrible  in  their  tone. 

"But  she  loved  him,  that  Clarise — and  he  triumphr  1 
over  me;  and  she — the  little  plebian — " 

"Cease  your  babbling." 


238  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

Dumesnil's  voice  was  a  reverberation;  it  shook  the 
windows  of  the  room.  D'Artivan  cringed,  and  was 
silent.  His  frivolous  thoughts  were  instantly  dissi- 
pated. His  eyes  wandered  to  the  terrible  instrument — 
the  use  and  power  of  which  had  been  taught  to  Souchon 
by  the  banished  Mesmer,  but  was  yet  so  little  under- 
stood. It  lay  there,  under  its  black  velvet  covering,  like 
a  living  monster,  obedient  to  the  touch  of  its  master. 

Again  the  wand  was  raised,  and  a  cry  of  ineffable 
anguish  answered  the  signal. 

"  Confess,  or  die!" 

The  walls  of  the  Gascon's  ears  seemed  to  crack 
with  the  sound  of  this  frightful  voice.  To  his  quaking 
soul  it  was  as  the  crash  of  thunder. 

And  then  for  a  brief  space  he  became  a  madman, 
oblivious  to  all  save  fear,  that  kind  of  fear  which  makes 
the  veriest  coward  attempt  what  heroes  would  halt  at. 

With  a  movement  of  incredible  swiftness,  he  sud* 
denly  thrust  his  fingers  against  his  throat,  forced  them 
between  it  and  the  thick  wire,  and,  although  his  hands 
were  bound  togefher  at  the  wrists,  succeeded  in  spread- 
ing the  loop  so  as  to  admit  the  middle  finger  of  each 
hand.  Then,  with  a  supreme  effort  of  strength,  he  drew 
the  coil  upward.  He  had  drawn  his  chin  inward,  and 
had  succeeded  in  slipping  the  loop  over  it  and  as  far  as 
his  mouth. 

As  the  wire  touched  the  murderer's  lips  there  came 
from  them  a  noise  like  the  hissing  of  a  serpent;  a  white 
and  pungent  vapor  issued  from  them,  followed  by  a 
shriek. 

The  surgeon  had  forestalled  him! 

This  time  D'Artivan  had  succumbed  to  nature — he 
had  swooned.  There  was  no  difficulty,  therefore,  in 
replacing  the  wire  ;  but  his  arms  were  now  tied  behind 
him.  The  surgeon  produced  a  small  vial  from  a  medi- 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  239 

cine  case,  poured  a  few  drops  of  liquid  from  it  upon  the 
tongue  of  the  unconscious  man,  and  in  a  moment  he 
opened  his  eyes  wildly,  and  feebly  cried: 

"  Do  you  intend,  then,  to  murder  me  ? " 

The  surgeon  made  no  reply.  Once  more  he  resumed 
his  station  near  the  battery,  wand  in  hand.  And  once 
more,  without  a  word,  without  a  glance  at  his  ghastly 
suppliant,  he  stretched  forth  his  arm,  and  touched  the 
fatal  button. 

A  last  despairing  scream  quivered  in  the  burning 
throat  of  the  craven.  He  could  bear  no  more.  He 
held  up  his  head,  contorted  his  cracking  lips  in  the 
effort  to  speak  and  mumbled,  huskily: 

"  Hold,  for  Christ's  sake,  hold!  " 

This  strange  appeal  in  the  name  of  One  at  whom  all 
France  seemed  scoffing  brought  a  smile  to  the  surgeon's 
lips,  a  smile  of  derision. 

"Will  you  confess?"  asked  he,  moving  his  cane 
toward  the  button. 

"Yes,  yes,"  yelled  the  prisoner,  frantically;  "  I  will 
confess;  only  release  me." 

"  Not  yet,"  said  Dumesnil,  approaching  the  scarred 
wretch  and  looking  sternly  down  upon  him.  Then, 
drawing  from  his  capacious  waistcoat  pocket  the  iden- 
tical wallet  in  which  he  had  bestowed  the  bank-notes  Paul 
had  given  him  on  the  quay  at  Dover,  he  drew  from  it  a 
folded  paper. 

Opening  the  paper,  he  read  aloud: 

"  I,  Victor  D'Artivan,  residing  in  the  Faubourg  St. 
Honore,  Paris,  in  the  presence  of  Doctor  Alfred  Sou- 
chon  and  Captain  Felix  Dumesnil,  who  will  sign  this 
paper  in  my  presence,  as  witnesses,  do  hereby  confess 
and  state  upon  my  corporal  oath,  without  compulsion: 

"  First,  that  I  inveigled  Paul  Cambray  to  enter  the 
building  at  Versailles  used  for  the  confinement  and  exhi- 


240  HELENE    SAINTE   MAUR. 

bition  of  wild  animals;  and  that  I  there  persuaded  him 
to  sleep  in  a  cage  which,  after  drugging-  him  with  liquor, 
I  rolled  against  the  cage  of  a  leopard;  and  that  the  leop- 
ard tore  out  the  throat  of  the  said  Paul  Cambray,  and 
devoured  the  head. 

"  Also,  that  I  was  directed  to  kill  said  Cambray  by 
the  Marquis  of  B ." 

The  remainder  of  the  document  was  merely  formal. 

"  Have  you  heard  all  that  I  have  read  ? "  inquired 
Dumesnil,  after  he  had  finished. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  Gascon,  sullenly. 

"Then  why  did  the  Marquis  of  B command  you 

to  kill  Paul  Cambray  ? " 

Dumesnil  had  until  now  remained  singularly  impass- 
able; but  as  he  put  this  question  he  exhibited  an  emo- 
tion which  he  could  not  entirely  suppress.  A  film  gath- 
ered before  his  eyes,  and  he  spoke  almost  tremulously  : 

"  The  Marquis  of  B required  me  to  put  him  out 

of  the  way  by  any  means  I  might  choose,"  answered 
D'Artivan,  slowly;  "and  I  wished  to  be  revenged  upon 
him,  and  another  through  him.  He  had  discovered  a 
secret  of  the  Marquis's,  which  the  latter  would  rather 
be  buried  alive  with  than  have  every  one  know.  Some 
others,  also,"  added  the  murderer,  malignantly  glaring 
at  the  Captain,  "  know  too  much  for  their  safety." 

"And  this  secret — do  you  know  it?" 

D'Artivan  was  silent;  he  looked  sullenly  at  the  floor. 

"  No  matter,"  observed  the  Captain,  with  a  sigh;  "let 
us  proceed.  You  will  sign  this  paper  with  your  full 
name,  after  which  we  will  also  sign  it  as  witnesses. 
Unbind  his  hands,  Doctor." 

And  while  D'Artivan  was  being  relieved  from  the 
ligature  around  his  wrist,  Dumesnil  brought  to  him  a 
pen  and-inkhorn  and  a  portable  writing  case  which  the 
Doctor  usually  carried. 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  241 

In  the  unnerved  condition  in  which  D'Artivan's  expe- 
rience had  left  him,  his  task  was  necessarily  a  slow  one. 
While  he  was  engaged  at  it  the  most  profound  silence 
prevailed  in  the  room,  accentuated  by  the  monotonous 
scratching  of  the  quill  in  his  stiff  and  bruised  fingers. 
But  once  there  came  a  slight  shuffling  sound,  seemingly 
from  the  corridor,  and  close  to  the  door.  D'Artivan 
raised  his  head  and  listened.  But  trie  sound  was  not 
repeated,  and  he  resumed  his  work. 

At  last  he  had  finished.  He  had  made  each  letter 
very  large,  and  had  made  several  attempts  with  his 
crippled  fingers  before  he  had  succeeded  in  tracing  his 
name  legibly.  Then  the  witnesses  signed.  D'Artivan 
was  then  freed  from  the  collar  of  wire,  and  permitted  to 
rise  to  his  feet. 

Moving  stiffly  across  the  chamber  he  picked  up  his 
hat,  which  had  fallen  upon  the  floor  in  his  struggle, 
walked  toward  the  door,  and  turned  with  a  scowl  of 
malignity  as  he  reached  it. 

"  Now  that  you  are  through  with  me,"  he  snarled, 
"  I  suppose  I  am  at  liberty  to  leave  this  house  ? " 

"Oh,  do  you  really  think  that  ?  "  inquired  Dumesnil, 
bitterly. 

"  Of  course,"  quickly  replied  the  Gascon,  glancing 
uneasily  at  the  giant,  who  was  standing  but  a  few  feet 
from  him,  and  the  expression  of  whose  face  was  that  of 
a  person  who  expects  something  to  happen. 

Dumesnil  considered  a  moment,  and  answered: 

"  Well,  yes,  we  are  through  with  you — at  least  for 
the  present.  At  the  same  time,  do  not  forget  that  you 
are  an  assassin." 

Then,  elevating  his  voice,  he  called,  sternly: 

"Enter,  my  friends!" 

The  door  was  instantly  thrown  open  from  without, 
and  two  gens  d'armes  with  muskets  stalked  into  the 


242  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

room.     Advancing  at  once  to  D'Artivan,  each  one  laid 
his  left  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  and  said,  brusquely: 

"We  want  you,  Monsieur!" 

D'Artivan  reeled  for  an  instant  as  from  a  blow,  a 
ghastly  tint  overspread  his  distorted  face.  But,  recov- 
ering himself,  he  cried  out,  in  accents  of  rage: 

"Ah,  devils,  you  have  betrayed  me!  " 

His  eyes  roved  insanely  about  the  apartment,  as  if 
seeking  some  opening  besides  the  door  which  the  sur- 
geon had  just  closed.  Two  heavy  curtains  of  red  velvet 
were  suspended  across  what  appeared  to  be  a  little 
recess,  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room.  Toward  this, 
with  a  half-formed  hope,  the  murderer  sprang,  before 
the  movement  was  suspected,  and  in  a  twinkling  he- dis- 
appeared behind  the  drapery. 

"  Mon  Dieu,  he  is  gone!"  shotted  the  astonished 
Souchon,  rushing  toward  the  recess  madly;  and  parting 
the  curtains,  he  bent  over  a  balustrade. 

Dumesnil  and  the  gens  d'armes  were  at  his  side  in  a 
second,  and  all  three  stopped — at  the  landing  of  a  narrow 
stairway  which  descended  into  some  dark  passage  below. 

Their  eyes  sought  Souchon's.  ''  Ah,  yes  !  "  cried  he, 
and  plunged  down  the  stairs.  The  others  hurried  after 
him.  At  the  bottom  he  turned  to  the  left,  pushed  open 
a  door  and  vanished.  When  the  rest  arrived  at  the  spot, 
they  found  a  door  on  either  side  of  the  bottom  landing. 
They  opened  the  one  on  the  right,  and  stepped  out  into 
a  court  at  the  rear  of  which  was  a  low  wall.  Dumesnil 
glanced  at  the  wall,  and  muttered  : 

"The  scoundrel  has  escaped." 

At  that  instant,  and  while  he  was  gloomily  returning 
into  the  house,  with  the  gens  d'armes  at  his  heels,  there 
came  to  them  the  clamor  of  voices.  The  noise  proceeded 
from  the  front  of  the  house.  Dumesnil  threw  open  the 
door  through  which  Souchon  had  passed,  and  the  three 


HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR.  243 

men  found  themselves  in  the  room  in  which  Clarise  had 
sat  watching  the  corpse  of  Paul  Cambray.  The  first 
object  upon  which  their  eyes  rested  was  D'Artivan.  He 
was  lying  at  full  length  upon  his  back,  before  the  door 
leading  into  the  front  or  main  hall  of  the  mansion. 
There  was  no  movement  of  his  body,  and  absolutely  no 
color  in  his  face. 

But  there  were  other  occupants  of  the  room  who 
were  not  so  passive.  Clarise  stood  by  the  side  of  her 
chair,  holding  her  black  veil  back  from  her  pale  and 
tear-stained  face,  and  gazing  stonily  at  the  figure  of  her 
lover's  murderer.  Doctor  Souchon,  standing  near  Clar- 
ise, with  his  hand  resting  lightly  on  a  little  wooden 
knob  protruding  from  the  wall  of  the  entry,  was  also 
gazing  at  D'Artivan;  but  as  the  others  entered  the  room 
he  moved  away,  saying,  quietly: 

"The  knob  of  that  door  is  copper  metal,  and  a  wire 
connects  it  with  my  battery.  I  was  just  in  time  to  send 
a  charge  into  him  as  he  grasped  the  knob.  Take  your 
prisoner,  my  friends." 

The  gens  d'armes  were  bewildered.  They  regarded 
the  Doctor  with  an  expression  of  fear. 

"This  man  is  the  fiend  himself!"  whispered  one  to 
the  other. 

"Parbleu,  ves,"  returned  the  other;  "let  us  get  out 
of  here." 

D'Artivan  was  opening  his  eyes.  He  rolled  over  on 
his  side,  and  scrambled  to  his  feet,  looking  confused  and 
scared.  The  gens  d'armes  went  up  to  him,  again  took 
him  by  the  shoulders,  and,  shaking  him  roughly,  said: 

"Come  you!  It  is  only  a  few  toises  to  the  Con- 
ciergerie,  and  we  are  in  a  hurry." 

And  locking  their  arms  is  his,  while  Souchon  opened 
the  door  (which  they  refused  to  touch),  they  disappeared 
with  the  prisoner  down  the  corridor. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

MIRABEAU'S   VISIT. 

The  wonderful  influence  which  Helene  Sainte  Maur 
had  established  over  Mirabeau  proceeded  not  merely 
from  physical  but  psychical  causes.  The  occult  power 
of  which  we  have  heretofore  spoken  had  been  brought 
to  bear  upon  the  brain  and  mind  of  the  great  orator,  to 
subserve  a  special  purpose.  The  influence  she  thus 
acquired  was  not  ephemeral;  it  remained  with  him  even 
when  he  was  absent  from  her,  even  while  he  was  in  the 
midst  of  those  stormy  combats  which  threatened  per- 
haps his  own  ruin,  and  which  ended,  as  much  through 
the  subtle  exercise  of  her  power  as  through  any  other 
medium,  in  the  downfall  or  the  annihilation  of  his 
adversaries. 

It  is  the  purpose  of  this  chapter  to  explain  the  singu- 
lar phenomenon,  as  Mirabeau's  friends  termed  it  when 
commenting  upon  the  docility  of  this  lion  of  the  tribune 
in  the  presence  of  Helene  Sainte  Maur. 

In  revealing  this  secret  of  the  boudoir  of  the  great 
Parisienne  who  has  been  given  so  honorable  a  place  in  this 
historic  story,  we  do  not  wish  it  to  be  understood  that 
there  was  anything  in  the  least  culpable  or  even  repre- 
hensible in  her  purpose,  or  in  the  means  by  which  she 
sought  to  accomplish  it.  This  peculiar  power  which 
she  possessed  was  never  used  by  her  for  purposes  of 
evil;  it  is  even  doubtful,  indeed,  if  she  would  have  been 
capable  of  exercising  it  nefariously.  That  it  is  a  terrible 
power  is  conceded  now  by  the  scientific  world;  that  he 
who  possesses  it  may  use  it  for  evil,  the  author  at  least,  is 

244 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  245 

gravely  doubtful,  having  seen  both  operator  and  sub- 
jects a  number  of  times  during  the  exhibition  of  this 
wonderful  psychological  phenomenon,  and  given  both 
the  most  searching  scrutiny  and  study. 

The  last  day  of  February  was  over.  A  black 
mountain  had  loomed  up  in  the  west,  obscuring  the 
setting  sun  and  deepening  the  sullen  twilight.  Night 
had  descended,  but  through  its  sombre  shade  the 
mountain  still  displayed  to  the  east  its  frowning  profile. 
This  mountain  had  a  voice,  and  as  this  voice  issued 
from  its  eyrie  it  spread  over  the  restless  Capitol  of 
Pluto,  the  Paris  of  yesterday,  first  with  sighs,  then  with 
groans,  and  finally  with  a  clamor  at  once  deafening  and 
appalling. 

The  mountain  was  a  cloud,  the  voice  was  the  wind. 
The  two  were  about  to  hold  a  carnival,  and  the  one 
with  its  threatening  frown,  the  other  with  its  warning 
moan,  were  driving  the  belated  people  off  the  streets. 

At  eight  o'clock  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain  was  with- 
out an  echo  save  the  echoes  of  the  wind.  The  meagre 
lamps  at  the  corners  of  the  streets  drove  the  shadows 
toward  the  centres  of  the  gloomy  squares,  where  they 
solidified  and  remained  impenetrable.  The  fierce  gusts 
assailed  the  chimneys  of  the  tall  houses,  and  halloed 
down  their  sooty  depths,  twisted  the  trees  and  snapped 
their  branches,  and  then  scurried  off  down  the  deserted 
streets,  like  the  gamins  of  St.  Antoine,  in  search  of  more 
adventures.  As  its  wrath  increased  the  wind  became 
more  violent,  and  none  but  a  giant  in  bulk  and  strength 
could  have  breasted  it. 

But  precisely  such  a  personage  was  just  now  entering 
the  square  at  the  south  en.d  of  the  Pont  Archevique.  He 
was  enveloped  in  a  long  cloak,  which  the  blast  seemed 
determined  to  strip  from  his  broad  shoulders. 

"  Pardieu,"  muttered  the  man,  as  he  muffled  his  face 


246  HELENE    SAINTE   MAUR. 

with  the  ample  folds  for  the  fifteenth  time,  "folk  lore  has 
it  that  the  devil  is  in  the  middle  of  every  whirlwind. 
Well,  peste,  I  believe  it !  " 

At  the  corner  of  the  boulevard  he  turned  toward  the 
left,  strode  along  to  the  centre  of  the  black  shadows — 
which  completely  swallowed  him  up — and  crossed  to  the 
other  side  of  the  avenue.  Here  he  stopped;  surveyed 
the  facade  of  a  spacious  stone  chateau  whose  windows 
emitted  a  golden  light,  ascended  the  broad  steps,  and 
sounded  a  bronze  knocker. 

The  door  was  immediately  opened;  and,  as  the  man 
entered  the  wide  and  glowing  hall  whose  cheery  mouth 
laughed  into  the  night  without  for  an  instant,  a  charm- 
ing voice  cried: 

"Ah,  Monsieur  Mirabeau,  how  did  you  get  a  fiacre 
on  such  a  night  as  this?'' 

"  Fiacre  indeed,"  grumbled  the  visitor,  as  he  removed 
his  heavy  cloak;  "  I  rode  on  the  devil's  back." 

"Oh,  Heaven,"  murmured  Clarise,  for  it  was  she, 
and  the  chateau  was  that  of  her  mistress;  "does  the 
evil  one  then  visit  Paradise?"  and  Clarise  looked  at 
the  colossus  with  a  little  shudder. 

"What  is  that,  midget?"  demanded  he,  shaking  his 
large  frame  with  a  loud  cough. 

"  Ah,  you  have  forgotten  that  you  said  to  me  the 
last  time  you  came:  '  Mon  Dieu,  Clarise,  I  have  just 
come  from  Inferno,  and  here  I  am — in  Paradise/ '' 

"True,  true,  my  child,"  responded  he,  while  he 
adjusted  his  cravat,  ran  his  white  fingers  through  his 
thick  hair,  and  smiled  at  her,  no  longer  ruffled  either  in 
temper  or  attire.  "I  meant  the  Assembly,  that  is 
Inferno.  But  I,  I  am  not  Lucifer.  My  mot  was  a  bad 
one,  I  withdraw  it.  No,  I  ran  away  from  the  devil, 
and  here  I  am — in  Paradise,  of  course." 

"Very  well,  Monsieur  le  Count;  you  have  an  answer 


HELENE   SAINTE    MALR.  247 

for  everything,"  returned  Clarise,  with  a  pleasant  nod 
of  concession.  Then  she  led  him  into  a  softly  lighted 
boudoir,  announcing,  as  she  threw  open  the  door: 

"The  Count  Mirabeau,  Mademoiselle." 

Mirabeau  advanced  but  two  paces  into  the  room 
and  stood  still. 

What  he  saw  was  a  vision.  Scores  of  wax  candles 
threw  their  mellow  beams  upon  every  object  from  mar- 
ble and  from  bronze  sconces,  from  silver  brackets,  can- 
delabra and  statuettes;  costly  paintings  covered  the 
walls  over  antique  tapestry;  the  richly  frescoed  ceiling 
glowed  with  a  harmony  of  tints;  a  sea-coal  fire  burned 
in  a  hollowed  chimney  rimmed  with  carven  oak. 

But  the  eyes  of  Mirabeau  were  not  resting  on  any  of 
these  charming  objects.  Under  his  thick  eyebrows  they 
gleamed  with  all  the  eagerness  of  one  who  is  permitted 
to  gaze  over  the  barred  gates  of  Heaven.  It  was  the 
fair  sorceress  he  saw,  she  who  had  drawn  him  by  the 
omnipotence  of  a  glance  from  a  night  session  of  his  col- 
leagues; for  whom  he  had  disregarded  three  appoint- 
ments with  as  many  pretty  bonbonnieres.  That  very 
afternoon  Helene  had  passed  him  in  front  of  the  Hotel 
de  Ville,  she  in  her  phaeton  and  he  rooted  to  the  side- 
walk gazing  at  her.  She  had  drawn  up  to  the  curb, 
bowed  to  him  and  said: 

"  I  shall  expect  you  at  my  hotel  at  eight  o'clock  this 
evening.  Do  not  fail  to  come." 

Then  her  eyes  had  looked  into  his  for  a  single 
instant,  and  she  was  gone. 

He  had  thought  of  nothing  else  after  that;  and  now 
he  was  here,  in  her  presence,  a  votary  at  a  shrine. 

There  she  lay,  upon  a  divan  of  blue  velvet,  gently 
waving  a  jeweled  fan,  her  eyes  half  closed,  a  picture  of 
cushioned  indolence. 

And  while  this  lion  contemplated  the  vision,  he  for- 


248  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

got  his  triumphs,  his  dangers,  his  ambition  and  France. 

And  yet,  only  that  day,  in  a  battle  of  words,  he  had 
said: 

"I  belong  only  to  my  country.  Let  others  seek  alli- 
ances with  her  enemies;  let  others  forget  their  pledges  to 
the  people,  if  they  will;  but  I,  Mirabeau,  will  denounce 
them  and  defy  them." 

Only  that  day  he  had  stood  between  a  gulf  and  a 
rock.  In  the  morning  he  was  at  the  brink  of  the  gulf; 
at  midday  he  had  climbed  the  rock. 

What  a  retrospect  was  his! 

Standing  there  in  the  midst  of  that  silken  ease,  mute 
in  the  presence  of  a  woman,  muffling  his  heart  that  it 
may  not  beat  too  loudly,  we  leave  him  for  an  hour  to 
the  soft  influences  of  beauty  and  the  preparation  of  a 
scene  we  are  shortly  to  witness. 

The  colossal  figure  of  this  man  had  but  just  risen 
above  the  anarchic  gloom.  He  had  been  made  the 
leader  in  the  National  Assembly;  he  was  the  recognized 
champion  of  order.  At  that  moment  he  was  the  arbiter 
of  the  fate  of  his  party,  if  not  of  Paris. 

But  Mirabeau's  power  was  not  secure.  He  had 
quarreled  with  Robespierre,  and  Robespierre  had  been 
made  public  accuser  in  the  courts.  Robespierre  was  an 
accident,  a  phenomenon  of  the  Revolution.  He  was  a 
monster  spawned  by  the  putrid  society  of  the  French 
capital,  that  society  which  mistook  the  phosphorus  on 
a  corpse  for  the  star  of  hope.  Only  a  little  while  before 
it  had  mistaken  the  pedantic  phrases  of  the  Girondists 
for  ideas;  later  on  it  would  mistake  anarchy  for  liberty. 

Within  the  ill-shaped  and  puny  body  of  Robespierre 
beat  the  heart  of  a  tiger.  Slaughter  was  his  synonym 
for  pleasure,  and  he  reveled  in  it.  It  was  his  remedy 
for  doubt,  and  he  applied  it;  the  guillotine  cut  all  knots 
for  him.  This  was  his  only  mental  resource;  with  the 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  249 

guillotine  he  solved  all  problems.  He  was  a  coward  by 
instinct;  circumstances  and  opportunity  made  him  a 
bully. 

Robespierre  was  the  natural  enemy  of  Mirabeau,and 
even  now  he  was  plotting  his  death.  But  a  greater 
reaper  than  Robespierre  was  afield,  whetting  the  scythe 
of  fate  for  the  one,  the  knife  of  vengeance  for  the  other. 

All  this  was  fact.  Much  of  it  Mirabeau  knew,  much 
of  it  he  feared.  And  yet,  as  he  stood  there  in  the 
presence  of  Helene  Sainte  Maur,  he  forgot  all,  he  feared 
nothing  and  hoped  everything.  Hope  mounts  upon 
success,  and  Mirabeau  had  been  successful. 

Mirabeau  had  made  frequent  visits  to  the  chateau 
during  that  turbulent  month  of  February,  and  every 
time  he  had  issued  from  its  doors  his  face  had  worn  a 
bewildered  expression,  but  at  the  same  time  a  look  of 
triumph. 

Let  us  return  now  to  the  boudoir  and  penetrate  this 
mystery. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

SECRETS   OF    THE    BOUDOIR. 

An  antique  clock  on  an  onyx  mantel  shelf  chimed 
the  hour  of  ten.  Utter  silence  pervaded  the  salon  ;  it 
was  still  bathed  in  the  golden  light  of  the  wax  candles. 
Their  perfumed  stems  and  the  hot  breath  they  exhaled 
had  made  the  air  languish. 

The  two  occupants  of  the  room  were  seated  face  to 
face  ;  she  leaning  forward  in  her  chair,  he  sitting  bolt 
upright  and  stiff  in  his.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  Mir- 
abeau's  with  a  concentration  of  energy  impossible  to 
depict,  to  describe  ;  while  he  returned  this  powerful 
gaze  with  a  questioning  stare.  Thus  the  two  had 
remained  for  a  full  quarter  of  an  hour. 

Gradually,  the  stare  of  Mirabeau  changed  to  an 
expression  of  vacuity ;  the  eyelids  twitched,  drooped, 
then  became  fixed  ;  the  dilation  of  the  pupils  had  also 
ceased  and  they  had  begun  to  contract.  The  motion  of 
his  body  caused  by  his  heavy  breathing  had  subsided, 
and  his  whole  form  settled  directly  into  a  rigidity 
resembling  death  or  profound  coma. 

The  moment  Mirabeau  had  reached  this  stage  of  the 
mesmeric  state  (for  such  it  was),  Helene  rose  quietly, 
paced  the  length  of  the  room  several  times,  and  then, 
returning  to  him,  for  some  minutes  contemplated  him. 

Her  attitude  now  was  majestic.  It  was  that  of  one 
endowed  with  supernatural  power,  with  transcendent 
mental  attributes.  The  expression  of  her  face  was  that 
of  a  divinity  before  an  awful  penetralium. 

200 


HEI/ENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  251 

The  heart  whose  impulses  she  was  about  to  direct, 
the  soul  whose  secrets  she  was  about  to  read,  were  the 
heart  and  soul  of  a  man  who  was  rapidly  approaching 
national  greatness  ;  whose  sonorous  voice  impulsed  the 
hearts  and  stirred  the  souls  of  three-quarters  of  a  mil- 
lion of  his  countrymen,  and  rang  like  a  tocsin  around 
the  rim  of  France. 

And  this  woman  at  this  moment  was  the  master  of 
this  great  heart,  of  this  great  soul  whose  secret  she  was 
preparing  to  lay  bare,  whose  will  she  was  preparing  to 
subdue  to  her  own. 

Of  what  use  would  she  make  of  those  secrets?  How 
would  she  obtain  them  ?  To  what  end  would  she  bend 
his  will  ? 

Let  us  wait. 

"  Mirabeau  !  " 

This  name,  which  thrilled  all  France,  came  from  the 
scarlet  lips  as  though  breathed  by  the  wind.  The  voice 
sounded  distant,  impressive;  the  tone  of  it  was  weird, 
commanding. 

Mirabeau  heard;  his  face,  from  which  all  color  had 
receded,  assumed  the  expression  of  an  anxious  listener, 
of  one  who  waits  for  a  command — that  he  may  obey. 

,  She  came  a  step  closer  to  him,  and  as  she  did  so  his 
eyes  seemed  to  retreat  from  her.  His  hands  rested 
rigidly  on  the  cushioned  arms  of  the  chair  in  which  he 
sat,  and  on  one  of  them  she  laid  one  of  her  own,  a  fair 
and  perfect  hand  and  firm  and  steady  as  his  had 
been.  The  contrast  between  the  two  was  wonderful;  it 
suggested  the  contact  of  a  brown  eagle  and  a  snow- 
white  dove. 

But  here  the  dove  was  master  of  the  eagle. 

And  now,  this  luxurious  chamber,  with  all  its  dainty 
apppintments,  suddenly  became — without  any  material 


252  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

change  or  transformation — an  Inquisitorium;  but  its 
director  was  a  beautiful  woman. 

"  Mirabeau  ! " 

Again  she  called  him,  and  this  time  her  voice  was 
full  and  calm  and  measured.  At  the  first  sound  of  his 
name  he  had  started,  as  though  his  soul  had  been  called 
back  from  a  distance.  Now  his  eyelids  quivered;  but 
the  eyes  remained  contracted,  and  without  expression 
save  that  of  uneasiness. 

"  Mirabeau,  you  are  a  strong  man,  but  a  weak  one 
also." 

The  massive  bosom  rose,  and  a  sigh  escaped  through 
the  parted  lips,  but  nothing  more. 

"  Yes,  you  are  very  weak.  You  trifle  with  your 
opportunities;  you  consume  precious  time  in  foolish 
amours,  while  your  enemies  spend  theirs  in  plotting 
against  France,  and  against  you.  At  this  moment  there 
is  a  ballet  dancer  at  the  Faydeau  gnawing  her  fan  with 
vexation  because  you  did  not  escort  her  to  the  play- 
house to-night,  as  you  promised.  She  has  often  laughed 
at  you  behind  that  fan,  although  you  gave  it  to  her.  In 
the  Rue  de  la  Chaussee  d'Antin,  looking  up  at  your 
shaded  windows,  while  she  drives  back  and  forth  before 

your  house,  is  the  young  widow  of  C ,  whom  you 

allowed  to  be  sent  to  the  block  only  a  month  ago.  She 
is  in  the  pay  of  Robespierre;  and,  besides,  she  hates 
you.  But  you  had  promised  her  this  evening,  and  an 
empty  loge. awaits  you  two  at  the  Lyrique.  You  admit 
all  this,  do  you  not?" 

The  colorless  lips  twitched,  and  Mirabeau  answered, 
hesitatingly: 

"Yes." 

Helene  resumed: 

"You  spend  money  that  you  can  not  spare  in  buying 
seats  at  the  Opera  for  worthless  creatures  (of  whom  I 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  253 

have  named  only  two;  though,  alas,  they  are  many  !), 
but  you  do  not  go  there  yourself  because  you  have  only 
desired  to  get  them  out  of  the  way  that  you  may  enjoy 
yourself  securely  in  the  society  of  Dulagre's  sister 
(another  paid  agent !)  at  the  theatre  first,  and  after- 
wards at  the  Restaurant  Nouvelle.  You  admit  this, 
also,  do  you  not  ?" 

Again  the  confession,  hesitating  and  slow, 

"  It  is  true." 

"  You  are,  therefore,  sensual — violently  so.  You  are 
sentimental — foolishly  so." 

Mirabeau's   chin   sunk    uoon  his  breast,  but  he  was 
silent. 

"But,  after  all,  you  love!" 

The  massive  head  reared  itself,  in  the  manner  it  was 
often  wont  to  do  in  the  Assembly.  A  beam  of  light 
radiated  the  powerful  features,  and  Mirabeau  murmured 
faintly. 

"I  love  you,  only  you — my  God,  yes! " 

"  But  you  brought  sorrow  to  your  wife,  and  she 
parted  from  you." 

"  I  loved  her  not,  nor  she  me.  Besides,  my  family 
caused  it  all.  It  is  passe,  let  it  rest.  I  love  you." 

"  You  love  me.  Yes,  that  is  true.  Well,  you  wish 
t'.iat  I  should  respect  your  love,  do  you  not?" 

"Ah-h!    Why  not?" 

"Then  you  must  cease  your  amours.  I  do  not  wish 
you,  my  friend,  to  waste  your  time,  nay,  risk  your  life, 
as  you  are  certainly  doing,  by  involving  yourself  with 
these  frivolous  and  treacherous  beings.  Besides,  do  you 
not  know  that  in  this  un'happy  Paris  one  day  is  a  year?" 

Mirabeau  groaned;  his  face  became  troubled. 

"You  feel  this  to  be  solemnly  true,  awfully  true. 
Then — remember  it." 

An  impressive  silence  followed.      Helene  regarded 


254  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

him  earnestly.  Shadows  were  flitting  over  the  homely 
face  of  Mirabeau,  but  his  soul  was  distant.  Her  voice 
recalled  it. 

"Mirabeau,  you  are  frightfully  ambitious." 

Mirabeau's  features  on  the  instant  grew  stern,  the 
expression  haughty  and  at  the  same  time  wistful. 

"Well,  you  have  succeeded  in  awing  the  pigmies; 
but  you  frighten  your  enemies,  and  that  is  dangerous. 
Do  not  frighten  cowards  too  badly,  it  is  not  wise. 
Besides,  these  cowardly  enemies  are  themselves- ambi- 
tious also.  You  must  therefore  mount  quickly;  your 
progress  is  not  rapid  enough.  It  is  true  you  have  risen 
like  a  star;  you  must  henceforth  move  like  a  comet.  Do 
you  comprehend  all  this?" 

"  Yes,"  responded  he,  with  feverish  intensity. 

Another  interval  of  silence,  and  then — 

"What  shall  I  do?"  whispered  Mirabeau. 

Helene  leaned  over  him;  placed  her  face  close  to  his, 
looked  down  into  his  shrinking  eyes,  and  said: 

"  I  will  tell  you.  You  must  prepare  to  denounce  the 
Assembly!" 

A  hoarse  cry  escaped  the  pale  lips  of  the  great  leader. 
His  form  remained  as  rigid  as  ever;  but  the  workings  of 
his  features  betrayed  the  emotion  he  felt.  His  soul  was 
being  unveiled. 

Helene  continued.  Her  voice  was  coldly  distinct,  its 
tones  concentrated.  Her  eyes,  as  she  watched  his  face, 
were  like  diamond  points. 

"  Listen  carefully,  and  reflect.  You  have  told  me, 
again  and  again,  that  you  love  me." 

"  It  is  true,  it  is  true,"  he  muttered. 

"Be  silent.  Others  have  told  me  that,  and  I  did  not 
believe  them,  or  I  did  not  care.  But  you,  you  are 
capable  of  loving,  and  you  are  capable  of  giving  great 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  255 

proofs  of  your  love.  Well,  I  shall  exact  them,  do  you 
hear?" 

"Yes,  yes,  exact  them,"  exclaimed  Mirabeau,  fever- 
ishly. 

"And  when  you  shall  have  given  such  proofs,  I  will 
reward  you,  with  my  love,  if  I  can;  and  if  my  heart  will 
not  consent  to  that,  then  in  a  different  but  a  noble  way." 

"How,  how?"  muttered  he. 

"Your  ambition  shall  be  satisfied." 

"Ah,  my  ambition." 

"Mirabeau,  you  call  yourself  a  Republican.  Well, 
you  are  not  a  Republican,  my  friend." 

Mirabeau  started  violently,  as  though  he  had  been 
suddenly  betrayed. 

"  Your  sympathies  are  with  this  poor  Louis,  and  still 
more  with  his  unfortunate  Queen,  whom  France  insults 
and  Austria  deserts.  Well,  they  are  prisoners,  and  they 
must  be  fre  they  are  in  the  hand:  of  regicides,  and 
they  must  escape.  There  is  but  one  man  in  all  France 
able  and  willing  to  effect  this.  That  man  is  Mirabeau." 

"Ah-h!" 

Mirabeau  could  utter  nothing  more  than  this;  his 
emotions  suffocated  him. 

"  Yes,  it  is  Mirabeau.  And  when  this  noble  duty  is 
performed,  Europe  will  applaud  you.  You  will  be 
invited  to  every  capital  but  one,  and  of  that  one  you 
will  be  the  master!" 

"Ha!  I  do  not  understand." 

"You  shall  be  Prime  Minister  of  France!" 

"Ah — my  dream!  "  cried  Mirabeau,  breathlessly. 

His  great  frame  began  to  shake  now,  and  the  muffled 
throbbings  of  his  heart  seemed  to  rend  him  within. 

Helene  resumed: 

"  The  nobles  of  France,  who  left  Paris  after  the  fall 
of  the  Bastille  and  after  the  removal  of  the  King  and 


256  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

Court  from  Versailles,  have  implored  England  and  Aus- 
tria to  intervene  and  save  the  royal  family.  They  have 
failed;  but  they  have  been  promised  succor  for  dying 
France,  if  the  King  comes  to  them.  It  is  because  of 
these  promises  that  six  hundred  of  these  nobles  are  now 
stationed  along  the  German  frontier,  and  are  waiting 
for  the  King  to  cross  the  border.  Through  me  they 
look  to  you,  Mirabeau,  to  bring  or  send  him  to  them, 
and  you  must  do  it.  Promise  me  that  you  will." 

Helene  had  finished.  Motionless  she  waited  for  his 
answer;  and  it  was  minutes  before  it  came. 

Mirabeau  was  undergoing  a  struggle  with  himself,  a 
struggle  concealed  from  every  eye  but  God's.  Each 
loud  beat  of  his  heart,  terribly  audible,  followed  the 
measured  tick  of  the  clock. 

At  last  he  spoke: 

"  It  is  enough.     I  will  do  it!  " 

The  beautiful  face  that  bent  over  him  raised  itself, 
and  over  it  spread  a  halo  that  seemed  borrowed  from 
Heaven. 

Gliding  toward  a  small  cabinet,  Helene  took  from 
it  a  paper  upon  which  some  lines  were  written,  glanced 
intently  at  them,  then  silently  beckoned  to  Mirabeau, 
whose  eyes  had  followed  her  as  a  slave  follows  a  master. 
He  rose  from  his  chair  at  once,  like  an  automaton, 
approached  her,  and  stood  passively  at  her  side. 

"Sign!"  she  commanded,  placing  the  desk  before 
him,  and  thrusting  a  pen  into  his  hand. 

With  mechanical  precision  he  did  so  ;  and  the  faint 
sound  of  the  pen  as  it  moved  over  the  parchment  was  to 
Helene's  ears  like  the  whisper  of  Fate. 

When  she  lifted  the  paper  again,  it  bore  in  bold 
characters  this  name: 

(Signed)   "  Gabriel  Honore  Mirabeau." 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

"  I    LOVE    THEE,  AND — I    LEAVE    THEE." 

The  last  days  of  March  were  passing. 

For  a  long  time  Mirabeau's  labors  had  been  super- 
human, beyond  the  prolonged  endurance  of  even  his 
massive  structure.  They  were  rapidly  drifting  him  on 
to  death. 

After  he  was  made  President  of  the  National 
Assembly  he  worked  at  a  prodigious  rate.  He  was  fond 
of  seeing  in  the  Moniteur  the  encomiums  that  even  the 
Jacobins  bestowed  upon  his  admirable,  bold  and  impar- 
tial management  of  that  most  difficult  of  all  legislative 
bodies  to  control.  But  even  fame  pays  a  penalty — per- 
haps the  greatest.  Mirabeau's  health  began  to  give 
way,  he  was  visibly  failing.  He  had  said  to  Helene: 

"  I  am  dying  by  inches;  I  am  being  consumed  in  a 
slow  fire." 

"  Could  it  be  otherwise  ?  "  returned  she.  "  You  take 
no  rest  from  seven  in  the  morning  until  midnight.  You 
expend  twice  as  much  in  your  hours  of  action  as  you 
recoup  during  your  hours' of  repose,  both  of  nerve 
and  brain.  You  live  too  luxuriously  and  keep  up  a 
perpetual  ebullition.  Sometimes,  recently,  your  sight 
has  almost  failed  you.  See,  now,  how  your  cheeks  are 
scarified  by  the  leeches  you  have  applied  to  them  to 
draw  the  blood  away  !  It  is  all  owing  to  your  excesses." 

Mirabeau  had  pressed  her  hand  and,  with  a  tear 
starting  in  his  eye,  murmured,  huskily: 

"  If  I  had  only  had   such   a  mentor  as  you   when   I 


258  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

was  twenty  \"  and  had  hurried  away  from  her  to  conceal 
a  sob. 

Yes,  his  life  had  been  misspent;  ruled  forever  by  his 
passions,  as  it  had  been  said  by  his  warmest  friend,  he 
was  a  wreck  at  last. 

One  day,  before  starting  to  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  he 
bethought  him  of  a  question  which  had  perplexed  him  the 
day  before.  Thomas  Paine,  the  upstart  American  who 
had  received  favors  from  Louis  XVI.,  and  afterwards, 
when  the  King  was  about  to  be  hurried  away  from 
Versailles  to  a  prison  in  the  Tuilleries,  had  read  an 
inflammatory  paper  in  the  Assembly  against  his  bene- 
factor, had  said  to  Mirabeau: 

"  Will  you  serve  France  as  a  republic?" 

Mirabeau  was  not  quick  as  a  debater;  and  he  had 
answered: 

"To-morrow  I  will  answer  you." 

Just  now  he  remembered  his  promise,  and  he  knew 
that  the  adventurer  would  remind  him  of  it,  with  some 
sardonic  allusion  to  his  title  of  Count.  He  dragged  him- 
self to  Helene's  door  to  consult  her.  As  he  reached  the 
steps  he  sank  down  on  them  in  a  swoon.  He  was  taken 
into  the  house,  and  laid  upon  a  couch.  Restoratives  were 
applied,  and  he  revived.  When  he  opened  his  eyes  he 
saw  Helene,  and  by  her  side  Clarise,  regarding  him 
with  mournful  looks  of  pity  and  solicitude.  His  eves 
brightened,  and  the  color  came  slowly  back  into  the 
homely  but  majestic  face.  He  held  out  his  hand;  and 
as  Helene  took  it  with  a  kindly  pressure  of  her  own,  he 
murmured: 

"  I  love  you — and — 1  leave  you." 

Then,  in  spite  of  remonstrances,  entreaties  and  warn- 
ings, with  which  she  tried  to  induce  him  to  remain  and 
rest,  he  staggered  forth  into  the  street,  climbed  into  her 
carriage,  which  she  ha'  hastily  summoned,  and  rode 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  259 

straight  to  the  Assembly.  He  had  forgotten  the  ques- 
tion, but  he  remembered  it  at  the  last  moment  of  his 
life,  and  then  it  was  answered. 

He  addressed  the  Assembly  very  briefly;  and  then, 
with  a  faltering  step,  he  left  it  and  his  enemies  forever. 

One  week  after  this  incident  there  was  straw  in  the 
Chaussee  d'Antin,  in  front  of  Mirabeau's  house.  Within 
(he  closed  doors  which  had  opened  to  the  magnates  of 
the  Revolution  so  often  the  colossus  of  the  tribune  lay 
dying.  The  sunken  features,  the  collapsed  frame  were 
but  a  spectral  likeness  of  himself. 

At  his  bedside,  with  a  scared  look  on  his  face,  knelt 
Cabanis,  a  young  and  inexperienced  physician  whom 
Mirabeau  kept  near  him,  for  whom  he  had  conceived  a 
singular  partiality  and  would  not  displace.  But  Cab- 
anis could  do  nothing  for  his  patron.  Mirabeau  had 
just  made  some  communication  to  him;  he  rose  and 
beckoning  to  a  nurse,  whispered  a  few  words  to  her. 
The  woman  stifled  a  sob  and  left  the  chamber.  The 
feverish  eyes  of  the  dying  man  followed  her.  As  she 
disappeared,  he  seemed  to  sink  into  a  reverie,  in  the 
midst  of  which  his  lips  moved,  and  he  murmured: 

"The  grave!  ah,  that  is  a  junction  where  pride  and 
humility  lie  down  together." 

An  hour  crept  by,  with  no  sound  to  divert  his  solemn 
reflections;  then  the  muffled  roll  of  wheels  in  the  street 
dispelled  them.  His  face  became  illumined.  A  light 
step  came  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  door,  and  he  mut- 

:d: 

"She  is  here!" 

Then  the  door  opened  softly  and  slowly,  and  Helene 
Sainte  Muur  entered,  robed  from  head  to  foot  in  gray. 
She  approached  the  bed,  and,  without  speaking,  took 
his  hand.  But  he  drew  lu-rs,  to  his  lips  and  pressed 
them  against  it  with  feverish  eagerness.  She  did  not 


260  HELENE    SAINTE   MAUR. 

withdraw  her  hand,  but  bent  over  him  tenderly,  while 
her  compassionate  eyes  seemed  to  flood  his  pallid  feat- 
ures with  a  light  not  of  earth. 

"  Mirabeau,"  she  said,  softly,  "  do  you  know  your 
condition?" 

"I  am  dying,"  replied  he,  with  perfect  calmness. 
And,  after  a  moment's  pause,  he  added,  passionately: 

"  So  is  France." 

"No,"  said  Helene,  "France  is  only  bankrupt." 

"Bankrupt,  yes/' assented  Mirabeau;  "but  bankrupt 
in  more  than  purse  or  credit.  She  is  bankrupt  in  mor- 
als, in  faith — above  all,  in  men." 

He  stopped  speaking,  only  that  he  might  regain 
breath;  and  then  he  recommenced: 

"Had  I  lived,  I  might  have  saved  the  Monarchy. 
Ah,  I  had  forgotten  what  I  went  to  you  to  ask,  that  day 
when  I  fell  like  a  clod — which  I  shall  be  directly." 

Then  he  repeated  the  question  put  to  him  by  the 
infidel.  Helene's  eyes  kindled. 

"The  Monarchy  will  pass  away,"  she  said,  "and 
more  than  one  form  of  government  will  follow  it  before 
France  will  know  peace.  But  the  crimes  France  is 
committing  now  will  not  be  expiated  within  a  century. 
Well,  on  the  hundredth  anniversary  of  the  murder  of  Louis 
XVI. — which  his  enemies  are  plotting,  and,  perhaps,  may 
consummate — there  will  be  another  revolution  in  France! 
Whether  that  revolution  will  be  like  this,  a  bloody  one, 
or  not,  will^depend,  as  it  has  in  this  case,  on  the  finan- 
cial state  of  the  country.  At  least  there  will  be  a  rev- 
olution, and  it  will  be  the  last  great  retributive  blow  at 
France  for  the  crimes  she  meditates  to-day." 

Mirabeau  watched  her  inspired  countenance,  awed 
and  silent.  She  appeared  to  him  at  that  moment  as  an 
unreality,  come  to  utter  a  terrible  prophecy;  and  he 
believed  it. 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  261 

Helene  now  reverted  to  his  condition: 

"  Do  you  regret  leaving  this  troubled  earth,  my 
friend?"  asked  she,  with  a  saint-like  expression  on  her 
pure  face. 

"N-o,"  faltered  Mirabeau.  But  suddenly  his  mind 
turned  to  the  scenes  he  had  left  in  the  tumultuous 
Assembly. 

"It  is  moving  toward  chaos,"  said  he;  "and  it  was  I, 
I  alone,  who  could  have  prevented  anarchy.  Yes,"  he 
went  on,  with  growing  excitement,  "  the  Monarchy 
approaches  an  abyss.  It  must  fall,  and  Robespierre 
will  be  Dictator  of  France. 

"  My  friend,"  returned  Helene,  slowly  emphasizing 
her  speech,  "  Robespierre  can  never  be  anything  more 
than  he  is — an  incendiary  and  assassin.  He  will  fall 
when  the  revolution  ceases.  No,  you  will  have  a  dif- 
ferent successor  than  that;  one  who  will  quell  this  fear- 
ful strife.  But  he  will  be  a  man  of  the  sword." 

"  And  this  man  ?  "  demanded  Mirabeau,  breathlessly. 

"  Bonaparte." 

"Ah,"  exclaimed  the  dying  leader,  "I  see  it  now. 
Yes,  you  are  right;  that  man's  shadow  has  fallen  upon 
everything.  His  very  obscurity  helps  him  on  towards 
the  place  he  covets.  I  have  met  him,  conversed  with  him, 
marveled  at  what  I  saw  in  him.  Yes,  this  Bonaparte 
will  soon  command  the  armies," 

"  He  will  be  the  master  of  France,  at  least,"  said 
Helene,  solemnly. 

But  Mirabeau  could  speak  no  more;  he  scarcely 
heard  this  last  and  startling  prophecy.  His  soul  was 
passing  while  she  uttered  it.  She  saw  it  taking  its  still 
flight,  and  her  tresses  brushed  his  pale  lips  like  the 
caress  of  a  seraph's  wing.  Thrilled  by  this  last  joy, 
his  glazing  eyes  flashed  for  an  instant,  and  Mirabeau 
was  no  more. 


262  HELENE    SA1XTE    MAUR. 

Thus,  consumed  by  internal  fires,  fell  this  Achilles, 
on  the  very  threshhold  of  the  ''reign  of  terror." 

Mirabeau  was  a  man  of  extraordinary  versatility. 
Malasherbes  said  of  him:  "He  can  descend  with  the 
greatest  facility  into  Inferno,  and  rise  without  effort 
to  the  brow  of  Olympus.  He  exists  only  on  the  one  or 
in  the  other." 

Necker  had  said:  "  He  possesses  those  valuable 
traits  which  are  necessary  in  a  money-making  jour- 
nalist— he  is  never  at  a  loss  to  construct  fables,  which 
he  solemnly  announces  as  truths." 

Mirabeau's  opinions  of  his  own  capabilities  were 
overwhelming.  It  was  said  of  him  that  if  any  one  had 
offered  him  the  elements  of  a  Chinese  Grammar,  he 
would  haveattempted  a  treatiseon  the  Chinese  language. 

He  fondled  the  brains  of  men  of  talent,  and  set  them 
to  work  for  himself.  He  assimilated  their  ideas  like  a 
boa  constrictor1,  and  absorbed  their  energies  like  a 
sponge.  But  he  was  no  idler  himself;  he  worked  with 
a  sort  of  ferocity. 

Mirabeau  bore  a  bad  reputation  among  the  nobility, 
although  he  belonged  to  that  order,  and  was  fond  of  his 
title,  which  he  bore  even  when  no  other  titled  person  in 
Paris  dared  as  much.  His  own  family  quarreled  with 
him,  accusing  him  with  having  plebian  tastes.  They 
were  wrong,  however,  for  he  had  decidedly  "  aristo- 
cratical  tendencies."  It  was  only  from  self-interest  that 
he  "affected  Republican  principles/'  something  which 
he  knew  did  not  in  fact  at  that  time  exist  in  France. 

In  private  conversation  he  was  amiable  and  engag- 
ing; invariably  leading  off  with  a  topic  which  he  knew 
would  personally  interest  his  company. 

He  had  an  unfortunate  penchant  for  the  society  of 
actresses,  and  his  amours  with  them  were  notorious. 

He  was  imprisoned  at  Vincennes  for  three  years;  and 


HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR.  263 

during  that  gloomy  period  he  changed  his  "  religion  " 
three  times.  He  was  proud  of  his  ugliness.  He  wore 
his  hair  like  an  enormous  bush.  Helene  once  asked 
him: 

"  Why  do  you  endeavor  to  make  your  head  appear 
larger  than  your  body?  " 

"  What,"  he  replied,  affecting  surprise  at  her  want  of 
penetration;  "do  you  not  understand?  Well,  then,  I 
will  tell  you;  when  I  shake  my  terrible  locks,  no  one 
dares  to  interrupt  me." 

Often  when  he  called  at  the  chateau,  he  would  square 
himself  before  an  immense  mirror  in  the  drawing-room, 
while  waiting  for  Helene,  and  go  through  the  motions 
of  a  speaker,  beginning  with — "The  Count  de  Mirabeau 
will  answer  that  question."  And  thus  Helene  would 
find  him,  often  stopping  on  the  threshhold  to  watch  and 
to  listen  in  amused  silence. 

Mirabeau's  valet  de  chambre,  Teutch,  had  been  a 
smuggler,  and  was  said  to  have  committed  unheard-of 
deeds  of  daring  and  outlawry  before  he  reformed.  It 
amused  Mirabeau,  however,  to  kick  and  thump  this  ter- 
rible fellow,  when  irritated;  and  so  accustomed  did 
Teutch  finally  become  to  this  rough  usage  that  he 
really  felt  aggrieved  if  it  was  not  administered. 

But  here,  on  the  couch  of  death  at  last,  lay  all  that 
was  left  of  this  eccentric  genius;  verily,  a  dead  giant. 

And  while  the  great  bell  in  the  tower  of  Notre  Dame 
sent  its  mighty  throbs  over  weeping  Paris,  a  woman  in 
a  gray  serge  robe  stood  over  the  rigid  form,  and  mused 
aloud: 

"  I  could  have  made  you  the  greatest  man  in 
France!  " 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

THE   CAFE    MILITAIRE. 

One  evening,  abotit  a  fortnight  previous  to  the  death 
of  Mirabeau,  at  one  of  the  tables  of  the  Cafe  Militaire, 
a  fashionable  resort  of  officers  whose  means  permitted 
the  indulgence  of  an  expensive  cuisine,  two  young  men 
of  the  National  Guard  were  finishing  their  last  bottle  of 
wine.  Had  it  been  their  first  instead  of  their  last,  they 
would  have  noticed  a  stranger  sitting  at  a  table  by  him- 
self at  their  left,  and  conveniently  near  enough  to  enable 
him  to  hear  anything  they  might  say.  Indeed,  the  man- 
ner of  this  stranger,  as  well  as  his  attitude,  indicated 
that  he  was  deliberately  listening  to  their  conversation, 
and  that  he  had  not  listened  long  before  he  became  pro- 
foundly interested  in  it. 

This  inquisitive  person  was  none  other  than  Gas- 
coigne,  the  friend  and  factotum  of  the  journalist  Dude- 
vant  until  the  latter's  tragical  death,  when  he  became 
his  successor  in  Robespierre's  employ. 

Gascoigne  had  sauntered  into  the  cafe  behind  the 
officers,  from  the  sheer  impulse  of  habit,  the  habit  which 
induces  one  of  those  hungry  dogs  which  nobody  owns 
to  follow  smelling  at  the  heels  of  any  passing  wayfarer, 
possibly  in  the  vague  hope  that  some  crumbs  may  fall 
from  the  man's  pockets.  Gascoigne,  at  least,  hoped 
that  the  officers  might  drop  something  which  would  be 
useful  to  his  master;  and  in  this  case  he  was  not  disap- 
pointed. Indeed,  he  was  richly  rewarded,  after  an 
hour's  patient  waiting. 

264 


HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR.  265 

The  volubility  of  the  officers  had  increased  with  each 
bottle  they  drank  ;  and  by  the  time  they  began  to  dis- 
cuss the  third,  every  one  except  themselves  and  the 
attentive  and  patient  Gascoigne  had  left  the  cafe.  The 
sly  journalist,  never  lacking  in  subterfuges,  had  called 
in  a  thick  voice  for  a  bottle  of  white  wine.  When  it 
was  brought  he  nodded  over  it  in  a  way  that  would  have 
deceived  the  shrewdest.  All  this  time  his  large  ears 
were  doing  the  drinking  while  his  lips  scarcely  touched 
the  wine. 

"Yes,  yes,"  one  of  the  officers  was  saying.  "I  tell 
you  some  queer  things  are  going  on  ;  things  that  the 
public  knows  nothing  about.  As  for  me,  I  manage  to 
keep  pretty  well  informed." 

"  Why,  as  to  that,"  rejoined  the  other,  not  willing  to 
appear  as  ignorant  as  "the  public,"  and  tossing  off  his 
glass  with  a  gesture  of  self-complacency,  "I  can  see 
through  a  mill-stone  with  a  hole  in  it,  myself.  Apropos 
of  news,  do  you  know  that  Mirabeau  is  in  a  fair  way  to 
>rne  the  greatest  man  in  France?" 

"Indeed.  Some  people  think  he  is  that  already," 
rved  the  first  speaker,  drily. 

"Oh,  yes,  he  has  his  devotees,  certainly;  but  he  will 
!)  •  Prime  Minister.  What  do  you  say  to  that,  eh  ?" 

"Ah,  that  explains  something,"  said  the  first,  as  if 

iking  to  himself. 

"Of  what  are  you  thinking?" 

"Oh,  of  those  secret  conferences  which  Mirabeau 
holds  with  the  Queen  so  frequently." 

"Aha,  you  are  then  aware  of  those  pretty  meetings  ; 
but  of  course  you  are,  since  every  one  in  Paris  knows  all 
about  them." 

"  True  ;  but  I  have  just  found  out  the  meaning  of 
them — that  is,  recently.  Some  weeks  ago  I  had  no 
opinion  at  all  ;  but,  as  I  have  remarked,  things  have 


266  HELENE    SAINTE   MAUR. 

happened  lately  that  are  very  interesting,  and  what  you 
tell  me  of  Mirabeau  gives  me  the  final  clue." 

"  Powf  !  If  you  have  only  just  found  out  the  mean- 
ing of  Mirabeau's  visits  to  the  Queen,  you  must  have 
been  deaf  and  blind.  Any  ass  can  understand  them." 

"  Oh,  you  are  wrong,  my  excellent  friend,  if  you 
imagine  that  Mirabeau  is  in  love  with  the  Queen.  No, 
nothing  of  the  kind  ;  they  are  the  asses  who  say  that  he 
loves  her,  I  tell  you." 

"  The  devil!    Do  you  mean  to  say  tnat  he  does  not?" 

"  Precisely.  Mirabeau  is  madly  in  love  with  that 
paragon  of  loveliness  and  virtue,  Helene  Sainte  Maur." 

"Ha,  ha!"  shouted  the  other,  intensely  amused  at 
this  statement;  "imagine  a  lion  changed  into  a  donkey! 
That  is  exactly  the  metamorphosis  you  will  see  in  Mira- 
beau's  case.  But  are  you  sure  of  what  you  say? " 

"Absolutely,  I  tell  you." 

"Then,  how  do  you  explain  his  visits  to  the  Queen?" 

"  Will  you  swear  that  you  will  not  divulge  a  word 
of  what  I  tell  you?" 

"  Mon  Dieu!  yes,  since  your  manner  says,  'prepare 
to  be  astounded.'" 

"Well,  listen: 

"Mirabeau  is  now  in  constant  communication  with 
the  Queen.  The  Queen  has  at  last  persuaded  the  King 
to  act.  He  is  to  take  her  and  the  rest  of  his  family  to 
St.  Cloud  to  spend  Easter.  Well,  everything  is 
arranged  for  a  very  different  journey,  I  can  assure  you." 

"What!  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  there  is  a  plot 
to  take  the  King  out  of  France?" 

"Wait.  All  the  details  are  in  my  possession.  This 
is  the  way  of  it: 

"You  know,  do  you  not,  that  I  was  honored  with  an 
invitation  to  the  reception  given  by  Mademoiselle  Sainte 
Maur — the  last  one? " 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  267 

"Peste,  yes,  you  lucky  dog." 

"  Lucky  in  a  double  sense,  as  you  will  see  directly. 
Well,  I  went  alone;  and,  not  being  very  well  acquainted 
with  those  present,  I  was  left  to  amuse  myself  by 
myself  in  the  best  way  I  could.  Sacre!  I  was  deucedly 
interested  before  I  left  the  chateau." 

"Ah,  you  must  have  seen  Mirabeau  making  love  to 
Mademoiselle,  then?" 

"  Not  at  all.  Wait.  In  the  course  of  the  evening  I 
strayed  into  a  little  room  which  communicated  by  a 
door  with  what  I  suppose  was  a  cabinet  or  study.  The 
room  I  entered  was  crowded  with  pretty  bijouterie,  and 
I  fell  to  examining  and  admiring  the  various  articles. 
While  I  was  thus  pleasantly  engaged,  I  heard  two  per- 
sons speaking  in  very  earnest  but  subdued  tones  in  the 
cabinet  adjoining.  I  could  not  at  first  distinguish  any- 
thing except  '  mum-um,  mum-um-um  '  and  in  fact  had 
no  idea  that  what  they  were  saying  could  be  of  the 
remotest  interest  to  me.  I  soon  changed  my  mind  about 
that,  however. 

"The  voices  after  awhile  became  more  animated; 
and  I  then  made  out  that  they  belonged  to  Mademoiselle 
and  a  certain  public  man  whom  we  both  know." 

"Come,"  ejaculated  the  listener, •"  let  us  have  it  all. 
I  suspect  his  name;  do  not  suppress  it.  It  is — ?  " 

"  Well,  yes;  it  was  Mirabeau." 

"  I  Scanty  and  the  Beast,  again,"  laughed  the  other; 
"and  I  warrant  me  the  Beast  was  braying." 

"  Parbleu,  my  friend,  you  are  too  much  prejudiced 
against  our  great  friend.  He  is  neither  a  donkey  nor 
a  boor,  to  begin  with.  He  is  a  diplomat,  a  courtier,  a 
statesman,  a  journalist,  a  noble,  an  orator.  He  is  a 
Knight  of  the  Garter." 

"  Knight  of  the  Garter,  is  he?  Pshaw,  any  man  who 
takes  a  spouse  becomes  that.  But  spare  me  any  more 


268  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

eulogies;  and  give  me  a  chance  to  prove  you  are  too 
partial.  You  know  Mirabeau  is  an  epicure.  Well,  one 
day  I  was  at  a  dinner  given  by  Lafayette,  at  which  this 
great  orator  was  present.  The  repast  was  ample,  and 
Mirabeau  had  exhibited  an  astonishing  appetite.  When 
he  could  eat  no  more,  the  gourmet  sighed,  looked  rue- 
fully at  the  remains  of  the  feast,  and  said: 

'"Ah,  my  mouth  is  much  too  small,  my  paunch 
much  too  contracted.  Now,  could  I  have  taken  more 
at  a  mouthful,  and  had  greater  capacity  for  the  viands, 
then  would  I  have  dined  as  I  should.  As  it  is,  pardieu, 
I've  only  tasted!" 

"My  dear  fellow,"  remarked  the  Count's  admirer, 
"  it  is  only  your  good  eaters  who  are  good-natured." 

"  I  am  silenced.  Go  on  with  your  story.  You  heard 
Mirabeau,  who  loves,  in  a  cabinet  alone  with  the  woman 
he  loves,  but  he  does  not  make  love  to  her,  va!" 

"  Nevertheless,  all  Paris  is  laughing  at  his  infatua- 
tion in  that  quarter,  whatever  may  be  said  by  malicious 
persons  concerning  his  supposed  passion  for  the  Queen. 
I  confess  that  I  expected,  when  I  recognized  the  voices, 
to  hear  some  very  pretty  phrases  from  him  and  some 
very  fine  mots  from  her,  and,  with  nothing  more  than  a 
mischievous  feeling  and  a  disposition  to  amuse  myself, 
I  stayed  where  I  was. 

"But,  mon  Dieu!  The  conversation  which  I  now 
began  to  hear  through  that  convenient  door  soon  ceased 
to  amuse  me,  it  amazed  me.  I  will  repeat  it  to  you; 
and  I  believe  you  will  agree  with  me  that  I  did  well  to 
listen,  malgre  good  manners." 

The  speaker  then  went  on  to  narrate  that  portion 
of  the  discourse  pertaining  to  the  plan  for  the  King's 
flight  which  has  already  been  told,  and  then  continued, 
with  an  increase  of  vivacity: 

"  I  became  so  lost  to  everything  except  the  voices  in 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  269 

the  next  room,  that  at  length  I  imprudently  leaned 
against  the  door.  In  doing  so  my  scabbard  struck  one 
of  the  bronze  hinges,  and  produced  a  devil  of  a  crash. 
The  voices  ceased  instantly;  then  the  door  was  roughly 
tried,  shaken  by  a  powerful  hand,  and  evidently  by  a 
very  angry  individual.  Fortunately  it  was  locked,  and 
I  slipped  out  of  the  little  room  without  being  dis- 
covered." 

"  Sapristi!"  ejaculated  the  listener,  as  the  narrator 
finished;  "this  is  certainly  a  fine  piece  of  news.  And 
have  you  disclosed  the  conspiracy?" 

"  The  devil — no.  Do  you  think  I  am  such  an  ass  ? 
I  am  not  malicious,  either.  Look  here;  I  have  a  snug 
estate  in  Provence,  as  you  know;  and,  although  the  Pro- 
venceaux  are  considered  by  some  people  as  a  very  rough 
and  ill-mannered  lot,  they  are  not  so  bad  to  draw  rents 
from.  Well,  do  you  not  see?  If  this  canaille  of  Paris 
retain  the  upper  hand  much  longer  I  shall  get  no  more 
rents,  and  my  estate  will  not  be  worth  a  filip.  In 
La  Vendee  they  have  stopped  paying  anything;  in  Nor- 
mandy they  have  '  suspended/  Besides,  I  am  for  the 
Queen." 

"And  I  also,"  leturned  the  other  officer,  warmly. 
"To  the  devil  with  Robespierre." 

"To  the  devil  with  Danton." 

"  Apropos  of  Dantonl  I  heard  an  excellent  story  yes- 
terday. It  seems  that  Danton's  sudden  prominence  has 
made  him  rather  presumptuous.  He  had  been  paying 
very  rapid  court  to  Mademoiselle,  and  had  come  off 
with  the  same  experience  that  every  one  else  has.  After 
receiving  some  wholesome  advice  from  Mademoiselle, 
In:  was  coming  a'vay  from  her  door,  looking  excessively 
sour  and  gloomy.  Mirabeau  was  just  coming  to  make 
a  call.  Danton  was  exasperated.  So  bitter  were  his 
feelings  at  the  moment  that  he  thought  it  would  be  a 


270  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

relief  to  tantalize  his  rival  a  little.  Stopping  on  the 
pavement  as  Mirabeau  came  up,  he  observed: 

" '  Well,  Count,  it  is  said  there  are  positively  no  two 
things  exactly  alike,  but  there  are  two.' 

"'And  those  two? '  queried  Mirabeau, unsuspectingly. 

'"Your  experience  and  mine,'  returned  Danton,  and 
walked  off  before  Mirabeau  had  time  to  recover." 

The  wine  having  by  this  time  been  entirely  absorbed, 
the  officers  went  out  of  the  cafe  without  noticing  Gas- 
coigne  as  they  passed  him,  and  he  remained  nodding  in 
his  seat  until  they  had  disappeared.  Then,  with  a  look  of 
triumph  on  his  saturnine  face  (for  so  it  had  become  since 
his  intimacy  with  Robespierre),  he  rose  stealthily,  paid 
his  bill,  and  crept  away. 

In  the  interim  between  the  night  of  Helene's  recep- 
tion and  the  incident  in  the  cafe,  "  Monsieur  "  (afterwards 
Louis  XVIII.)  had  been  conferred  with,  and  had  prom- 
ised to  assist  in  getting  his  brother,  as  well  as  himself, 
out  of  the  country.  The  Queen  had  received  a  number 
of  visits  from  Helene,  and  was,  for  the  first  time  and 
the  last,  buoyantly  cheerful. 

Every  preparation  had  been  made.  But  the  King, 
as  usual,  had  proved  the  stumbling  block  in  the  way  and 
refused  to  budge.  He  was  importuned,  and  hesitated  ; 
was  implored,  and  at  last,  when  Mirabeau  was  dead,  con- 
sented to  go  to  St.  Cloud  to  spend  Easter,  and  to  fly 
from  there  to  the  frontier. 

Meantime,  Robespierre  had  been  informed  by  his 
minion  of  all  that  the  latter  had  learned  from  the 
National  Guardsman,  and  had  determined  upon  a  coup 
by  taking  the  conspirators  in  the  act.  He  had  there- 
fore made  no  sign,  and  Helene's  fears  of  a  discovery 
had  disappeared.  The  final  change  in  the  plan  of  the 
flight  had  thwarted  Robespierre's  arrangements,  and 
thrown  him  off  the  scent;  but,  like  the  vulture  watching 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  271 

the  dying  throes  of  a  wounded  stag,  he  hovered  in  the 
path  and  waited. 

Easter  Sunday  dawned;  but,  if  there  was  "joy  in 
heaven,"  there  was  sadness  in  the  palace.  The  King 
had  taken  pains  to  have  it  announced  that  the  royal 
family  would  go  to  St.  Cloud  for  the  day.  A  royal 
avenue  extended  from  the  palace  to  the  barriers,  from 
the  barriers  to  St.  Cloud.  But  an  excellent  road  also 
led  beyond,  and  this  the  King's  enemies  knew  as  well  as 
his  friends.  So,  when  a  strong  but  light  coach,  with 
eight  thoroughbred  horses  attached  to  it,  was  in  the 
very  act  of  receiving  the  royal  excursionists,  the  bridle- 
bits  were  seized  by  the  shrieking  canaille,  who  swore, 
pardieu: 

"  The  King  shall  not  go!  " 

And  the  King  and  his  party  meekly  turned  back. 

The  King  wore  his  sword  at  his  side,  and  no  doubt 
it  was  a  good  one.  Still,  he  did  not  cut  down  the  ruffian 
who  thrust  his  body  between  him  and  the  coach  door. 
The  generalissimo  of  the  army  was  there  with  a  strong 
and  gallant  escort,  but  the  King  did  not  call  on  these 
to  clear  the  court-yard.  Doubtless,  he  preferred  to  die 
in  the  shambles,  as  he  did  later  on. 

It  was  Sir  Philip  who  told   Helene  of  this  miserable 
fiasco.     He  had  been  with  the  escort,  prepared  to  follow  ( 
the  royal  coach,  and  his  brothers  were  already  off  with 
Dumesnil  and  the  sturdy  valets,  for  St.  Cloud. 

When  Helene  had  heard  Sir  Philip  through,  she 
said: 

"We  must  make  one  more  effort;  but  we  must  treat 
the  King  as  we  treat  the  little  dauphin;  we  must  take 
him  along." 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

PLACE    DU    CARROUSEL. 

It  was  nearly  midnight  of  the  2Oth  of  June. 

Near  the  Carrousel,  in  the  Ruede  1'Echelle,  the  shad- 
ows were  thick  ;  but  they  did  not  hide  the  glass  coach 
which  waited  there,  close  to  the  outer  gate  of  the  Tuil- 
leries. 

Presently  several  persons  successively  and  without 
noise  emerged  from  the  Carrousel  into  the  street  and 
entered  the  coach. 

Still  the  coach  waited.  Evidently  there  were  others 
to  come.  Directly  there  is  heard  the  roll  of  rapid 
wheels,  and  the  carriage  of  General  Lafayette  appears. 
Under  the  inner  arch  of  the  Carrousel  it  passes  a  young 
lady,  who  shrinks  against  the  wall,  with  a  shiver.  One 
of  the  King's  bodyguards  is  standing  near  her,  dressed 
in  a  servant's  livery.  The  young  woman  is  the  Queen. 
Confused  and  alarmed  by  the  sight  of  the  carriage  of 
the  commander-in-chief,  she  turns  the  wrong  way  with 
her  escort,  and  in  trying  to  find  the  coach  she  wanders 
away  from  it  off  into  the  Rue  de  Bac. 

There  is  a  count  on  the  box  of  the  coach,  and  as  he 
sits  there  motionless,  but  trembling,  the  hour  of  midnight 
tolls. 

An  hour  of  waiting  and  then  the  Queen  and  her  escort 
arrive,  breathless  and  agitated.  She  enters,  he  mounts 
to  the  side  of  the  coachman,  and  the  latter  touches  his 
horses.  They  flit  through  the  silent  night,  over  the 
silent  streets,  to  the  barrier  of  St.  Martin,  and  stop. 

272 


HELENE    SAINTE   MAUR.  273 

There  a  new  berlin,  of  enormous  size,  with  six  horses, 
takes  the  fugitives,  and  the  coach  turns  back.  Count 
F mounts  again,  and  the  bodyguard  also. 

The  whip  is  given  to  the  horses,  and  they  plunge 
forward;  but  the  berlin  is  extremely  heavy,  and  drags 
at  the  heels  of  the  stout  Norman  horses.  At  length  it 
enters  the  wood  of  Bondy,  and  is  swallowed  from  view. 

In  the  midst  of  the  wood  the  fugitives  were  joined 
by  an  armed  escort  of  seven  mounted  men  armed  with 
swords  and  pistols.  This  was  Sir  Philip  Belmore  and 
his  party. 

Sir  Philip  rode  up  to  the  berlin,  bent  in  his  saddle, 
and  asked: 

"Is  his  Majesty  inside?" 

A  head,  in  around  hat  and  peruke,  the  head-dress  of 
a  valet,  thrust  itself  out  of  the  window,  and  answered 
in  a  low  tone: 

"I  am  here." 

It  was  the  voice  of  the  King. 

"And  the  Queen?"  anxiously  pursued  Belmore. 

"The  Queen  is  also  here,  and  the  children,"  was  the 
response. 

"All  is  well,  then,"  said  Sir  Philip.  "And  now, 
your  Majesty,  I  have  to  inform  you  that  there  are  six 
besides  myself,  who  will  ride  with  the  coach;  and  that 
there  is  a  mounted  guard  in  front  and  another  at  the 
rear,  which  will  remain  within  hearing  of  the  wheels, 
but  out  of  sight  until  we  enter  Lorraine.  Let  us  move 
forward,  now,  as  rapidly  as  possible." 

The  berlin  was  again  in  motion,  the  close  escort 
divided,  four  riding  on  one  side,  and  three  on  the  other. 
Thus  they  proceeded,  until  they  entered  the  wood  of 
Fontainebleau.  The  horses  had  been  changed  at  the 
Grande  Cerf,  and  the  party  had  gone  some  few  hundred 
yards  from  the  inn,  when  a  great  commotion  arose 


274  HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR. 

there,  the  sound  of  which  was  borne  to  those  in  the 
berlin.  The  King  looked  out  of  the  window,  and 
inquired  the  cause.  At  that  moment  Sir  Philip  galloped 
to  the  side  of  the  coach  and  said,  hurriedly: 

"  Pardon  me,  your  Majesty,  if  I  beg  that  for  the  next 
half-hour  you  will  not  appear  at  the  coach  window  or 
allow  any  one  to  put  up  the  blinds.  No  matter  what 
you  may  hear,  understand  that  I  will  come  to  you  at  the 
proper  moment."  Then  he  rode  off  rapidly  into  the 
darkness.  The  berlin  kept  on;  but  the  noise  coming 
from  the  direction  of  the  inn  increased  ;  it  seemed  to 
the  anxious  travelers  as  if  they  were  being  pursued  by 
an  angry  crowd  of  people. 

Suddenly  the  voice  of  Sir  Philip  Belmore  exploded 
in  the  darkness  like  the  bursting  of  a  shell — 

"Halt!" 

There  was  a  quick  reply  in  most  uncouth  tones : 

"Oh,  we  intended  to  halt,  Monsieur.  Yes,  sacre,  we 
intended  to  halt  as  soon  as  we  came  up  to  you,  because 
we  have  some  questions  to  put  to  you,  la." 

"  Well,  fellow,  although  you  are  acting  strangely,  I 
have  a  curiosity  to  know  what  questions  you  can  desire 
to  put  to  me,  a  stranger.  Out  with  them,  sir." 

"  Good.  We  wish  to  know,  these  honest  burghers 
and  myself,  who  you  are  guarding  so  well  in  that  fine 
new  berlin  ?  Some  great  aristocrats,  no  doubt,  who 
should  be  kept  at  home  to  help  feed  Mother  Guillotine, 
eh  ? " 

The  night  was  dark,  but  through  the  obscurity  the 
figures  of  ten  or  twelve  men  could  be  seen,  clustering 
around  the  little  cavalcade  which  had  drawn  up  at  one 
side  of  the  coach. 

Sir  Philip  considered  for  a  brief  space,  and  answered, 
resolutely: 

"Your  question   is  impertinent,  and  it  is  excessively 


HELENE  SAINTE    MAUR.  275 

foolish.  If  you  have  run  all  the  way  from  the  post- 
house,  with  your  staves  and  what  not,  only  for  the  pur- 
pose of  insisting  upon  our  introducing  ourselves  to  you, 
you  have  had  your  trouble  for  nothing." 

An  angry  murmer  arose  in  the  crowd,  and  a  number 
of  muskets  suddenly  appeared.  Sir  Philip  rapidly 
whispered  to  Dumesnil: 

"  They  are  too  far  away  from  the  town  now  to  be 
heard,  unless  they  should  fire  those  muskets.  We  must 
capture  the  guns  at  once,  if  they  will  not  allow  us  to  go 
in  peace;  and  then  we  must  secure  ourselves  as  we  best 
can  against  any  immediate  alarm  they  might  be  able  to 
give." 

Dumesnil  nodded,  and,  without  replying,  quietly  got 
down  from  his  horse,  giving  the  reins  to  Hubert  Melt- 
ham,  and  walked  directly  into  the  crowd  of  villagers. 
The  man  who  had  addressed  Sir  Philip  was  in  the  act 
of  replying,  when  he  was  seized  by  the  collar  of  his 
shirt  by  Dumesnil,  who  at  the  same  instant  grasped 
another  of  the  meddlers  in  the  same  manner,  and  before 
either  of  them  could  cry  out  had  dragged  them  outside 
of  the  throng.  Both  of  these  fellows  had  guns,  which 
they  spasmodically  held  while  being  captured. 

"Guppy!"  called  the  Captain,  as  he  tossed  the  pet- 
rified prisoners  together  against  a  tree;  "come  and 
take  care  of  the  arsenal." 

The  valet  dropped  from  his  horse,  and  pounced 
upon  the  muskets  in  an  instant,  while  Dumesnil  caught 
two  more  of  the  amazed  rabble  in  his  arms,  and  bore 
them  to  the  spot  where  he  had  left  the  first,  whom 
Guppy  was  vigilantly  guarding,  and  tossed  them  down 
in  the  same  unceremonious  manner.  Then,  turning  to 
the  others,  who  were  recovering  from  their  astonish- 
ment, he  growled,  fiercely: 

'"Here,   attention,  you  scoundrels!     You  see  that  I 


276  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

have  taken  two  of  you  at  a  time,  and  that  I  am  inclined 
to  take  two  more  of  you.  Well,  do  you  wish  to  know 
what  we  want  six  men  for  ?  I  will  tell  you.  In  that 
berlin  yonder  is  our  great  master,  Mesmer,  of  whom 
you  have  heard.  Even  now,  as  he  travels,  he  is  at  work 
on  a  human  subject.  It  is  only  his  enemies  that  he 
experiments  on  ;  and  ye  are  his  enemies!  Well,  he  has 
only  to  look  at  you,  do  you  understand,  to  turn  you 
into  anything  he  chooses  to  make  of  you.  Come,  then, 
which  of  you  shall  I  now  take  ?  " 

And  with  his  great  arms  outspread,  and  his  great 
eyes  distended  until  he  presented  a  frightful  appearance 
to  the  superstitious  villagers,  he  advanced  toward  them 
through  the  darkness. 

But  the  villagers  shrank  back  from  him  in  terror. 
The  four  men  he  had  captured,  seeing  their  companions, 
as  they  believed,  on  the  point  of  deserting  them,  began 
to  cry  out,  in  tones  of  reproach  and  fear: 

"  Holy  Saints,  are  you  going  to  leave  us  with  Satan, 
then  ?  Stay,  stay,  cowards — no,  neighbors.  Let  us  par- 
ley with  this  terrible  person  !  Sir,  sir,  we  were  wrong 
to  meddle  with  you ;  we  do  not  want  to  have  anything 
to  do  with  the  wizard  who  is  inside  there.  Only  let  us 
go  home,  that  is  all  we  ask  of  you,  and  go  your  way — 
to  the  devil  if  you  like,  since  you  have  the  devil's  part- 
ner with  you  ! " 

"  Let  me  consider.  Well,  I  agree  to  let  you  off,  pro- 
vided you  leave  us  your  guns.  We  do  not  like  this  night 
travel ;  but  our  master  always  travels  by  night,  and 
rests  during  the  day.  Put  down  your  guns,  then,  and 
be  off  with  you,  before  he  looks  out.  If  he  does  that, 
morbleu,  you  are  lost  men!  " 

As  he  concluded  this  speech,  Dumesnil  walked  up  to 
another  of  the  now  completely  cowed  villagers  and 
gently  relieved  him  of  his  musket ;  the  two  valets,  who 


HELENS    SAINTE    MAUR.  277 

had  slid  from  their  horses,  came  forward  and  took  the 
three  others  that  remained  in  the  hands  of  the  rabble, 
and  carried  them  to  the  booth  of  the  berlin.  Then, 
remounting  his  charger,  and  bidding  the  servants  do 
likewise,  Dumesnil  motioned  the  coachman  to  start  up. 

The  villagers  had  already  grouped  themselves 
together,  and,  with  many  whisperings  and  grumblings, 
turned  their  faces  toward  the  town,  while  the  fugitives 
slowly  moved  in  the  opposite  direction. 

On  through  Nemours  and  Fontenay,  which  lay  in 
utter  darkness,  not  a  light  visible  ;  then  into  Montargis, 
where  the  sleepy  postillions  changed  horses  at  the  post- 
house  La  Madaleine  in  twelve  minutes.  Then,  without 
stopping,  until  they  reached,  in  the  broad  and  unwel- 
come glare  of  day,  the  little  hamlet  of  Briare,  on  the 
Loire.  At  the  Chapeau  Rouge  inn  there  was  a  small 
knot  of  villagers  which  gathered  around  the  gaily- 
painted  coach  with  goggling  eyes  and  pry  ing  questions, 
but  they  were  answered  curtly,  and  in  ten  minutes, 
with  six  fresh  horses,  the  coach  was  lumbering  on 
toward  La  Charite,  over  whose  long  stone  bridge  it  rat- 
tled thunderously;  the  escort,  far  in  front  and  behind, 
beginning  to  be  painfully  anxious  because  of  its  slow 
progress. 

Another  stop  at  Nevers,  and  after  passing  through 
four  other  post-towns  Moulins  was  gained.  This  was 
the  capital  of  the  Bourbonnois  ;  and  here  ended  the 
fine,  firm  and  smooth  Bourbonnois  road.  The  Lion 
d'Or  inn  was  crowded  with  people,  within  and  without, 
as  the  fugitives  approached,  and  no  change  was  made 
there,  but  the  jaded  horses  were  rested  for  five  minutes 
behind  the  convent  of  the  Chartreux,  and  then  they 
moved  heavily  on  toward  the  next — and  the  last  post 
they  were  to  be  permitted  to  reach. 

All  the  calculations  of  the  friends  of  the  Kirg,  who 


278  HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR. 

had  been  stationed  for  many  hours  along  the  route 
through  Lorraine  to  Metz,  had  miscarried  in  the  impor- 
tant matter  of  time.  When  the  berlin  arrived  at  Var- 
ennes  it  was  but  seventy  miles  from  Paris,  and  it  was  ten 
o'clock  on  the  second  night  of  the  flight! 

This  little  village  of  Varennes,  miserable,  shabby, 
grass-grown  and  dirty,  was  for  once  in  its  puny  exist- 
ence to  hear  its  fatal  name  sounded  throughout  all 
France. 

It  was  here  that  the  King  was  stopped;  here  that  the 
pursurers  came  up  with  the  fugitives,  and  turned  them 
back,  sickened  in  heart,  wearied  in  body.  The  terrible 
journey  back  to  Paris,  and  through  the  street  throngs 
who  gathered  in  tens  of  thousands  to  smirk  and  glower 
at  the  royal  prisoners,  was  an  eternity  to  Marie 
Antoinette.  And  when  she  was  conducted  to  her 
chamber  she  fell  into  a  swoon  that  lasted  for  many 
hours. 

Paris  was  jubilant,  and  the  orgies  that  followed  in 
the  brothels  and  houses  of  carrousse  on  that  terrible  night 
of  the  return  were  worthy  of  the  demon  populace  which 
was  then  preparing  to  immortalize  itself  on  the  altar  of 
Infamy. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

THE    MOB    AT    THE    TUILLERIES. 

The  summer  of  1792  was  passing.  It  had  yielded  to 
the  Queen  of  France  nothing  but  bitterness.  Many 
months  of  captivity  had  changed  her  greatly.  All  the 
brightness  had  gone  from  her  face,  all  the  lightness  from 
her  nature.  She  had  grown  profoundly  melancholy, 
sternly  sorrowful,  made  so  by  the  misfortunes  that  had 
befallen  her,  and  by  the  contemplation  of  those  that 
threatened  her.  She  did  not  spend  her  time  in  tears. 

"  Tears  would  often  be  a  relief  to  me,"  she  said,  to 
Helene;  "  but  when  I  feel  them  welling  up  from  my 
heart  I  suddenly  see  with  horrible  vividness  the  out- 
rages that  have  been  perpetrated  against  me  by  this 
nation  of  butchers,  and  it  seems  too  puerile  to  weep." 

Her  grief  did  not  display  itself  in  the  manner  that 
would  most  have  pleased  the  women  around  her;  and 
they  added  to  the  other  charges  which  their  shallow 
and  vicious  minds  concocted,  the  charge  of  heartless- 
ness:  But  the  edge  of  grief,  when  it  is  prolonged, 
becomes  blunted,  just  as  pain  becomes  dulled  by  its  own 
poignancy;  and  with  Marie  Antoinette  sorrow  became  a 
hopeless  calm. 

New  complications  had  been  discovered  by  the 
Assembly  and,  as  usual,  it  was  unable  to  cope  with  the 
exigency  that  arose.  For  two  years  the  populace  of 
Paris,  and  largely  the  inhabitants  of  the  provinces,  had 
been  occupying  their  time  in  marauding,  looting,  spy- 
ing upon  each  other,  and  killing.  A  bread  famine  was 

279 


280  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

again  the  consequence  of  crime.  Bread  was  six  sous  a 
pound,  and  among  the  populace  of  the  bankrupt  "gov- 
ernment "  sous  were  as  scarce  as  charity.  The  mob 
revolted.  It  started  up  from  its  bloody  lair  and 
shrieked: 

"  Kill  the  Austrian  woman!  It  is  she  who  has  brought 
the  war  with  Austria  upon  us.  To  the  Tuilleries!  To 
the  Tuilleries!  " 

A  crisis,  in  fact,  had  arrived;  the  tocsin  had  sounded. 
The  wolves  of  St.  Antoineand  St.  Marceau  had  left  their 
dens;  they  had  come  together,  these  two  streams  of  tat- 
terdemalions and  assassins;  they  had  mingled  their 
cries,  their  oaths,  their  revengeful  threats,  and  they 
shouted  in  unison: 

"  Marchez! "  and,  in  a  tangled  and  reeking  line,  they 
rushed  to  the  Tuilleries  after  the  stupid  and  unheroic 
Louis  again. 

There  they  forced  the  King  to  go  to  the  Assembly, 
and  proceeded  with  the  real  object  of  their  assault  upon 
the  palace — the  massacre  of  the  soldiers  and  friends  of 
the  dethroned  King,  and  the  destruction  of  whatever 
they  could  stop  to  demolish. 

Helene  was  with  the  Queen  during  this  onslaught; 
and  went  with  her  to  the  Hotel  de  Ville. 

Marie  Antoinette  had  set  her  foot  for  the  last  time 
in  the  Palace  of  the  Tuilleries.  A  few  days  of  torture 
while  shut  up  in  three  small  chambers,  and  then  the 
royal  family  was  conducted  to  the  Prison  of  the  Tem- 
ple. This  was  the  last  step  before  annihilation. 

All  the  foreign  ambassadors  now  applied  for  their 
passports,  and  left  France  indignant  and  disgusted. 

Before  the  end  of  another  month,  even  Lafayette 
was  compelled  to  fly  to  Holland,  to  save  his  life  from 
the  cut-throats  at  Sedan.  Having  driven  this  illustrious 
citizen  out  of  the'army,  the  Assembly  gave  it  to  Dum- 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  281 

ouriez  later,  who,  in  his  turn,  subsequently  turned  it 
over  to  the  Austrians,  and  abandoned  France  to  its 
fate. 

The  caprices  of  the  populace  became  more  and  more 
insane,  inconsistent.  The  auther  of  "Figaro,"  whom  a 
little  while  before  they  had  compelled  the  King  to 
exhibit  with  his  rank  production  in  a  royal  drawing- 
room,  was  now  hunted  by  his  former  admirers  through 
a  dozen  streets  and  byways.  Like  a  rat,  he  tried  to 
burrow;  but  he  could  not  find  a  hole  as  easily  as  he 
could  an  epigram,  and  he  was  caught.  He  was  after- 
wards let  go,  and  crept  off  to  England,  a  pauper. 

The  seven  prisons  of  Paris  were  packed  with  "aris- 
tocrats," that  is  to  say,  with  citizens  who  had  clean 
skins.  At  night,  the  only  sounds  that  wakened  the 
echoes  on  the  routes  between  the  prisons  and  the  Place 
Louis  XV.  came  from  the  rolling  tumbrils,  as  they  bore 
the  doomed  to  the  axe,  or  carted  the  dead  to  the  fields. 

So  far,  France  had  been  trying  to  exist  without  law. 
But  of  late  two  things  had  proved  its  impossibility:  the 
massacres  and  the  invasion  of  the  country. 

The  Commune  was  now  master  of  Paris;  and  it  felt 
the  necessity  of  action.  Danton  had  borrowed  from 
Mirabeau  a  phrase  (dressed  a  little  differently)  which 
he  had  flung  at  his  colleagues: 

"We  must  dare,  and  again  dare,  and  forever  dare." 

To  illustrate  his  idea  of  daring,  he  suggested  that 
the  King  be  beheaded.  This  was  popular;  it  made  the 
mob  forget  for  the  time  that  its  stomach  was  empty; 
and  it  had  often  shown  that  it  loved  blood  better  than 
bread. 

Louis,  therefore,  was  "  tried,"  condemned,  and  in  Jan- 
uary following  he  was  taken  to  the  block.  He  mounted 
the  car  without  emotion,  passed  through  the  gathering 
thousands,  now  hushed  into  silence,  who  had  come  to 


282  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

see  a  king  die.  The  ground  of  the  Place  Louis  XV. 
drank  his  blood;  and  afterwards  the  assassins  rechris- 
tened  it  "  Place  de  la  Concorde."  Rather  should  it  be 
named  Place  de  la  Mort! 

Then  England  and  Spain  declared  war  against 
France,  and  the  emissaries  of  the  Jacobins  began  to  hunt 
for  Englishmen.  Dumesnil  came  to  Sir  Philip  to  warn 
him  that  the  lives  of  himself  and  his  brothers  would 
surely  be  taken  if  they  were  once  inside  of  a  French 
prison.  A  consultation  was  held  at  the  chateau,  and 
Dumesnil  recommended  the  Catacombs  as  the  safest 
retreat  possible  at  the  time.  He  had  been  in  them  and 
knew  something  of  their  intricacies;  he  could  guide 
them — his  three  friends — to  the  most  habitable  spot  in 
those  gloomy  regions,  and  the  means  of  subsistence 
could  be  provided  without  much  difficulty. 

This  plan  was  finally  adopted,  Dumesnil  pledging 
his  word  that  if  danger  befell  Helene  beyond  the  dan- 
ger of  the  present  he  was  to  hasten  to  the  Catacombs 
for  Sir  Philip.  With  many  admonitions,  which  the  lat- 
ter left  with  Helene,  he  bade  her  farewell.  It  was  late 
at  night  when  he  parted  from  her,  the  hour  fixed  by 
Dumesnil  being  midnight;  and,  with  this  indispensable 
friend  and  guide,  the  three  brothers  went  sadly  to  their 
hiding-place,  to  which  hundreds  of  hunted  citizens  had 
preceded  them. 

The  three  valets  had  accompanied  their  masters  into 
their  place  of  concealment;  it  being  deemed  utter  mad- 
ness to  attempt  at  the  outset  of  the  English  invasion  to 
cross  Prankish  territory  toward  the  border. 

Helene's  visits  to  the  Queen  continued;  but  they 
were  now  soon  to  terminate.  The  struggle  between  the 
Girondists  had  culminated  in  the  triumph  of  the  latter, 
and  on  the  second  day  of  June  all  the  Girondists  who 
could  be  found  were  arrested.  Two  of  them  were  spend- 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  283 

ing  the  evening  at  the  St.  Maur  chateau,  Brissot  and 
Vergniaud,  when  the  gens  d'armes  entered,  pushing 
their  way  silently  between  the  affrighted  servants,  and 
seized  the  intrepid  statesmen. 

On  that  day  the  "reign  of  terror"  was  to  date  its 
beginning  in  history.  Indiscriminate  slaughter  then 
began,  and  continued  for  a  year,  at  the  end  of  which  the 
master  of  Paris,  Robespierre,  was  led  to  the  block. 

The  event  of  June  put  an  end  to  Helene's  privileged 
entrance  toHhe  Temple.  On  the  day  following,  Danton 
came  to  warn  her  that  she  was  being  watched. 

"On  no  account  whatever,"  said  he,  "must  you  leave 
your  hotel.  Two  of  my  attaches  are  domiciled  over 
the  way,  with  orders  to  keep  a  vigilant  guard  over  your 
entrances,  and  to  send  me  word  if  any  intrusion  is 
attempted.  But  I  can  not  prevent  your  arrest  away 
from  here.  Do  not  try,  therefore,  to  evade  what  I  can 
not  prevent." 

When  he  left  her  she  sank  into  a  chair  and  buried 
her  face  in  her  hands.  She  remained  in  this  attitude 
for  hours;  and  when  Clarise,  who  had  come  to  look  at 
her  a  score  of  times  and  retreated  as  many,  finally 
roused  her,  she  lifted  to  the  light  a  face  that  was 
ghastly  and  full  of  anguish. 

Clarise  was  now  the  only  companionable  person  to 
whom  Helene  could  turn.  Madame  Roland,  her  inti- 
mate friend,  had  gone  to  the  guillotine;  and  Helene's 
intimacy  with  the  Queen  had  driven  from  her  every 
other  so-called  friend  of  her  own  sex,  not  from  dislike 
or  repulsion,  but  through  fear  that  they  might  be  com- 
promised by  visiting  her.  But  one  evening,  in  the  mid- 
dle of  September,  she  sent  Clarise  to  Danton  to  learn 
the  condition  of  the  Queen,  and  the  girl  did  not  return. 
Helene  sat  in  her  boudoir  until  nine  o'clock  waiting, 
until  she  became  seriously  alarmed,  and  summoned  a 


284  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

servant,  the  footman,  whom  she  directed  to  go  to  the 
Minister's  and  request  Monsieur  or  "  Citizen  "  Dan- 
ton  to  come  to  her.  When  Danton  appeared  she  told 
him  of  CJarise's  disappearance.  He  shook  his  head 
gravely. 

"The  girl  came  to  me,"  he  said,  "  three  hours  ago. 
I  told  her  the  Queen  was  comfortable  and  quiet.  She 
left  at  once,  presumably  to  return  to  you.  Few  are  ever 
heard  of  now,  after  they  once  pass  out  of  sight.  Still,  she 
shall  be  searched  for.  Although  I  am  no  longer  Minis- 
ter of  Justice,  I  relinquished  the  office,  not  the  power. 
I  will  use  the  best  means  at  hand  to  find  vour  Clarise 
or—" 

Danton  was  going  to  add,  "her  grave,"  but  he  was 
checked  by  the  deep  distress  depicted  in  the  face  of  the 
woman  he  passionately,  if  hopelessly,  loved;  and  he  took 
his  departure,  leaving  behind  him  a  few  words  of  com- 
fort. 

The  next  morning  Helene  received  a  visit  from  a 
stranger,  who  handed  her  a  letter  from  Danton.  The 
letter  said: 

"  I  send  you  Duroc,  the  Detective.  He  was  at  the 
Prefecture  in  service,  during  the  time  young  Cambray 
was  employed  there,  and  remembers  him.  Give  him 
particulars,  and  trust  him  implicitly.  He  is  in  my  ser- 
vice. " 

Duroc  was  a  small  man,  with  a  dark  thin  face,  a  beak- 
like  nose,  deep-set,  watchful  eyes  that  were  brown  and 
bright,  and  hair  as  black  and  straight  as  an  Indian's. 
Helene  motioned  him  to  a  seat,  and  was  on  the  point  of 
speaking,  when  he  anticipated  her: 

"You  know  my  business  with  you,  Mademoiselle," 
he  began,  in  a  pleasant  and  respectful  tone,  "  and  I  will 
tell  you  at  once  what  is  necessary  for  me  to  know,  in 
order  that  I  may  serve  you. 


HELENS   SAINTE   MAUR.  285 

"You  will  be  good  enough,  then,  to  state  the  full 
name  of  your  maid,  her  age,  height,  build,  complexion, 
color  of  eyes,  color  of  hair  and  its  length,  and  if  worn 
long  or  short,  in  coif  or  otherwise;  also,  her  habits,  and 
where  she  resorted  to  for  amusement  or  otherwise;  also, 
whether  or  not  she  had  a  lover,  and,  if  so,  his  name, 
character,  residence,  business,  and  address  at  home  and 
at  business  place.  Also,  if  you  have  any  picture  or 
likeness  of  the  girl/' 

This  astonishing  list  of  questions,  thus  condensed 
into  one,  Duroc  propounded  in  a  rapid,  precise  and 
business-like  manner,  which  at  once  inspired  Helene 
with  confidence.  She  immediately  entered  into  a 
detailed  statement,  to  which  Duroc  listened  with  the 
liveliest  interest,  and  portions  of  which  he  noted  down  in 
writing.  When  he  rose  to  lake  his  leave,  he  said: 

"  I  am  splendidly  equipped;  and  I  have  a  great  deal 
of  confidence  in  undertaking  the  case." 

"Ah,  you  give  me  encouragement,  indeed,"  responded 
Helene.  Then,  taking  from  her  cabinet  a  purse,  she 
placed  it  in  Duroc's  hand,  and  observed: 

"You  will  need  money  for  expenses,  and  I  do  not 
wish  you  to  advance  it.  Here  are  one  hundred  Louis." 

Duroc  received  the  purse  as  if  it  was  a  simple 
matter  of  course,  and  said,  as  he  bowed  himself  out  of 
the  room: 

"  In  three  days  I  will  see  you  here,  Mademoiselle. 
Shall  it  be  at  this  hour  ?  " 

"At  this  hour,  if  you  choose,"  replied  Helene. 

As  the  detective  walked  into  the  Rue  de  Colombier, 
he  slapped  himself  on  the  knee,  and  said,  aloud; 

"Aha,  I  think  I  shall  look  up  my  Gascon," 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

TRACKED. 

In  the  year  1793,  there  were  in  Paris  two  hotels  bear- 
ing the  same  name — "Hotel  d'Angleterre."  One  of  them 
was  situated  in  the  Rue  de  Colombier,  Faubourg  St. 
Germain,  while  the  other  was  in  the  northwestern  part 
Rue  St.  Honore,  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Honore.  Persons 
and  letters  directed  to  either  of  these  hotels  sometimes 
went  to  the  wrong  one;  and,  as  both  of  them  were  popu- 
lar places,  and  needed  no  recommendation  from  each 
other,  there  was  a  mild  feud  between  the  two. 

It  so  happened  that  Duroc  was  one  day  peering  into 
the  prison  of  the  Conciergerie,  in  search  of  a  prisoner 
who  could  give  him  some  desirable  information,  when 
he  espied  D'Artivan,  who  was  confined  there  on  a 
charge  of  murder.  Duroc  was  permitted  to  converse 
with  the  Gascon,  and  the  latter,  believing  he  was  doomed 
to  die,  had  poured  his  story  into  the  detective's  ears, 
interjected  with  many  vicious  expressions  of  hatred 
against  Clarise  Dechamp,  upon  whom  he  now  charged 
all  his  misfortunes. 

"Thousand  devils,"  he  said,  grinding  his  teeth  des- 
perately; "if  I  could  only  get  out  of  here  long  enough, 
I  would  cut  her  throat,  curse  her! " 

D'Artivan  had,  during  his  savage  recital,  mentioned 
that  he  had  secured  lodgings  in  the  hotel  just  men- 
tioned, in  Colombier  street,  in  order  to  be  convenient  to 
Paul  Cambray,  whose  lodgings  were  in  the  Rue  Jacob, 
and  that  he  had  used  his  rooms  at  the  hotel  only 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  287 

because  he  did  not  wish  Paul  to  know  his  real  place  of 
residence.  Duroc  had  paid  no  attention  at  the  time  to 
this  piece  of  information;  but,  as  D'Artivan  had  also 
mentioned  that  he  had  not  given  up  his  rooms  there, 
and  should  go  back  to  them  if  he  was  let  out  of  prison, 
it  now  occurred  to  the  detective  that  it  would  be  as  well 
to  make  some  inquiries  there.  As  yet,  he  knew  nothing 
of  the  existence  of  the  other  hotel  in  the  Faubourg  St. 
Honore.  He  was,  however,  acquainted  with  the  land- 
lord of  the  first-named  hostelry,  and  he  felt  confident 
that  the  latter  would  be  able  to  give  him  some  useful 
information.  He  was,  to  all  appearances,  repaid  for  his 
visit,  judging  from  the  satisfied  expression  of  his  keen 
face  as  he  emerged,  an  hour  later,  from  the  hotel;  but, 
instead  of  going  home,  he  hailed  a  fiacre  and  directed 
the  driver  to  the  hotel  in  the  Rue  St.  Honore.  It  was 
four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when  the  fiacre  stopped  at 
the  entrance;  and,  ordering  the  driver  to  wait  for  him, 
Duroc  entered  briskly,  remained  but  a  few  minutes,  and, 
coming  out  with  a  smile  on  his  face,  sprang  into  the 
hack  and  returned  to  his  own  quarters  in  the  Rue  St. 
Eustache. 

Three  days  after  his  interview  with  Helene,  the 
detective  again  called  at  the  chateau. 

Helene  received  him  in  the  boudoir,  and,  before  he 
had  seated  himself,  said: 

"You  have  some  news." 

Duroc  smiled  complacently.  Taking  from  his  pocket 
a  gold  chain,  to  which  was  attached  a  little  gold  vin- 
aigrette, such  as  were  suspended  from  the  wrist,  he  deliv- 
ered it  to  Helene,  who  uttered  a  cry  as  she  took  it. 

"  Where — where  did  you  obtain  this? "  she  demanded, 
turning  pale  with  apprehension  of  something  terrible. 

"You  can  identify  it,  then?  "  said  Duroc,  postponing 
his  answer. 


288  HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR. 

"  Yes,  certainly,  it  was  Clarise's!  I  gave  it  to  her. 
Where  did  you  find  it?" 

"  In  the  possession  of  a  fellow  by  the  name  of  Victor 
D'Artivan." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Helene,  rising  from  her  chair, 
and  staring  at  the  detective  in  astonishment;  "do  you 
say  D'Artivan?" 

"Yes,  Mademoiselle,  I — " 

"But  D'Artivan  is  dead?"  asserted  she,  vehemently, 
as  she  continued  to  stare  at  him. 

"  No,  Mademoiselle,  he  is  very  much  alive/'  returned 
he. 

"But  I  do  not  understand." 

"  If  Mademoiselle  will  permit  me  to  explain,"  observed 
Duroc,  politely. 

"Ah,  yes,  I  am  so  greatly  agitated  and  astonished 
that  I  am  wasting  time,"  apologized  Helene,  with  a  sigh, 
re-seating  herself.  "  Pray  go  on,  and  tell  me  everything 
unreservedly." 

Duroc  bowed. 

"  To  relieve  your  curiosity  first  of  all,"  began  he,  "  I 
must  tell  you  that  this  Gascon  was  the  accomplice  of  a 
titled  gentleman  by  the  name — " 

"You  mean  the  Marquis  of  B ,"  suggested  Hel- 
ene, as  Duroc  stopped. 

"  Ah,  you  knew  that  much  ?  "  observed  he,  with  some 
surprise.  "Very  well.  You,  perhaps,  know  also  that 
Robespierre  has  for  this  Marquis  a  deadly  hatred  ;  that 
he  has  persistently  hunted  for  him  for  several  years,  in 
order  to  be  revenged  upon  him  for  some  gross  affront 
of  a  personal  character,  of  which  I  know  nothing. 
When  D'Artivan  went  to  prison  for  the  murder  of  the 
young  man,  Cambray,  he  sent  a  communication  to 
Robespierre,  which  brought  the  latter  to  the  Concier- 
gerie,  in  spite  of  his  well-known  repugnance  to  visit 


HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR.  289 

that  prison,  about  which  he  has  a  singular  superstition. 
He  went  into  D'Artivan's  cell,  stayed  there  alone  for  a 
half-hour,  and  when  he  came  out  he  said  to  D'Artivan, 
who  had  followed  him  with  a  very  eager  look  in  his  eyes: 
"  You  will  be  brought  out  to-morrow  morning." 
"  The  next  morning  two  gens  d'armes  took  D'Artivan 
in  a  carriage,  with  the  blinds  drawn,  to  Robespierre's 
private  rooms  in  the  Rue  Guenegaud,  to  which  no  one 
ever  goes  except  by  his  express  direction  or  permission. 
When  D'Artivan  came  out  he  went  off  alone.  He  was 
in  a  great  hurry  to  get  out  of  the  neighborhood  of  the 
Quai  de  Conti,  for  some  reason  or  other.  He  soon  got 
into  a  fiacre  and  was  driven  at  a  tremendous  rate  to 
the  Hotel  d'Angleterre,  in  the  Rue  du  Colombier. 
There  he  told  the  landlord  that  he  should  be  there  for 
one  night  only,  and  to  say  nothing  of  his  having 
returned.  He  went  to  his  room,  seized  his  chest  and 
dragged  it  down  the  stairs  without  waiting  for  a  porter, 
and  ordered  the  driver  of  the  fiacre  to  place  it  on  the 
vehicle.  Then  he  jumped  in  and  rattled  away.  But  in 
his  excitement,  he  had  said  nothing  to  the  landlord  of 
the  rent  which  he  owed,  and  the  latter  thought  it  pru- 
dent to  have  the  fiacre  followed,  and  thus  to  ascertain 
where  he  went  with  his  luggage.  The  fiacre  was  fol- 
lowed to  the  other  Hotel  d'Angleterre  in  the  Rue  St. 
Honore,  where  it  was  taken  off  (I  mean  the  luggage) 
and  carried  into  the  hotel,  and  the  fiacre  drove  away. 

"  All  this  I  learned  without  much  trouble,  and,  as 
soon  as  I  had  these  facts  in  my  possession,  I  went  to 
the  hotel  in  the  Rue  St.  Honore  myself.  A  little  inge- 
nuity elicited  the  fact  there  that  two  strangers,  one  of 
them  with  a  bad  scar  on  his  left  cheek,  were  in  the  habit 
of  holding  a  viz-a-viz  convention  of  an  hour  or  two  in 
the  apartments  of  the  latter  every  night.  1  was  con- 
vinced that  I  had  found  D'Artivan;  and  with  an  injunc- 


2QO  HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR. 

tion  upon  the  landlord,  which  I  gave  him  in  the  name 
of  Danton,  and  which  he  would,  therefore  be  certain  to 
remember,  I  engaged  a  room  adjoining  my  Gascon's. 
Two  nights  spent  in  my  room  yielded  me  this  much  in 
the  way  of  discovery: 

"  At  ten  o'clock  precisely,  on  the  first  night,  the  two 
entered  together.  I  placed  my  ear  to  the  keyhole,  and 
heard  enough  to  reveal  to  me  that  D'Artivan  had  gained 
his  liberty  from  Robespierre  by  disclosing  the  secret 
of  the  other's  presence  in  Paris;  that  as  soon  as  he  was 
free  he  had  hurried  to  the  house  in  the  Faubourg  St. 
Honore,  and  apprised  the  Marquis,  who  had,  of  course, 
vanished  before  the  gens  d'armes  came  there  to  search 
for  him.  The  Marquis  and  D'Artivan  were  now  in  partial 
disguise,  and  domiciled  at  the  little  hotel  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. 

"The  second  night,  I  overheard  the  two  discussing  a 
plan  they  had  in  view  to  escape  out  of  Paris. 

"  Last  night  they  did  not  come  at  the  usual  hour. 
I  was  at  the  keyhole,  and  waited  until  eleven,  but  no 
use,  they  did  not  come.  At  twelve,  I  made  up  my  mind 
to  obtain  an  entrance  into  the  room,  and,  having  had 
some  experience  in  opening  doors,  it  was  not  long 
before  I  was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  chamber. 
There  was  a  small  casket  of  very  curious  appearance 
on  a  table  in  the  room,  and  I  took  it  up  to  examine  it. 
As  I  did  so,  I  discovered  that  the  key  had  been  turned 
in  "it  without  in  fact  locking  it.  Upon  opening  it,  I 
found  nothing  in  it  but  this  locket.  But  this,  I  think, 
is  a  great  deal." 

"  Assuredly,  yes.  It  must  be  this  wretched  being  who 
has  caused  me  to  lose  Clarise,"  said  Helene  ;  "but  what 
can  he  have  done  with  her?"  she  asked,  with  a  shudder. 

"  It  is  useless  to  speculate  upon  that,"  remarked 
Duroc;  "we  must  try  and  find  her." 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  2QI 

"  P>  it  will  you  not  at  once  procure  D'Artivan's 
arrest  ?  "  asked  Helene. 

"Two  men  are  now  in  the  room  I  took  in  the  hotel, 
or,  at  least,  were  left  there  by  myself,  and  if  D'Artivan 
and  the  Marquis,  or  either  of  them,  appeared  since  I 
came  away  the  arrest  has  been  made.  Do  not  be  dis- 
couraged ;  we  are  already  on  the  track  of  the  abductor, 
and  we  shall  get  him." 

"  Then  you  do  not  think  that  he  has  murdered  her  ?' 

"  No.  I  believe  she  has  been  carried  off  for  the  grati- 
fication of  a  less  summary  revenge,"  said  Duroc,  rising 
to  go. 

"  And  what  are  you  about  to  do  now  ?  " 

"  I  shall  now  return  to  the  Rue  St.  Honore.  Expect 
me  again  at  any  hour." 

Duroc  left  the  house  and  returned  to  the  hotel.  He 
found  both  his  men  there,  who  reported  that  no  one  had 
entered  the  apartments  adjoining  during  his  absence. 

"Very  well,"  said  he,  "we  will  remain  here." 

It  was  now  the  usual  hour  for  dinner,  and  one  of  the 
men  was  sent  down  to  order  plates  for  the  three,  to  be 
laid  in  the  room  they  occupied.  When  the  meal  was 
spread  out  before  them  they  ate  it  in  silence,  and  after 
finishing  they  ordered  the  remains  to  be  removed  and 
settled  themselves  comfortably  for  a  possible  and,  they 
hoped,  profitable  vigil  of  five  hours. 

The  twilight  came  on,  the  shadows  thickened  in  the 
corners  of  the  room,  and  still  the  three  men  sat  near 
the  door  of  D'Artivan's  apartments,  silently  listening. 
On  the  table  before  them  lay  three  loaded  pistols,  the 
only  weapons  they  had  brought. 

The  night  was  more  than  an  hour  old,  and  they  were 
sitting  in  absolute  darkness,  when  they  heard  footsteps 
in  the  passage  without,  then  a  key  inserted  in  the  lock 


2Q2  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

of  the  Gascon'  door,  and  a  moment  after  the  sound  of 
voices  and  rays  of  light  came  through  the  keyhole. 

"Now,  be  ready,"  whispered  Duroc  to  his  compan- 
ions, who  grasped  their  pistols  and  rose,  as  did  Duroc 
also. 

The  three  men  then  advanced  to  the  entrance,  softly 
opened  their  own  door,  and  glided  into  the  hall,  at  the 
moment  they  heard  the  key  turned  in  the  lock  by 
D'Artivan. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

FACE   TO    FACE. 

Duroc  had  thus  far  taken  all  the  precautions  he  had 
supposed  necessary  to  prevent  the  game  from  suspect- 
ing they  were  discovered,  and  to  ensure  their  capture. 
He  thought,  now  that  he  had  the  Marquis  and  D'Artivan 
penned  in  their  room,  that,  even  if  they  attempted  resist- 
tance,  he  and  his  stout  assistants,  with  three  good  pistols 
in  their  hands,  could  certainly  overcome  the  two. 
There  was  one  precaution,  however,  which  Duroc 
neglected. 

Directing  his  companions  to  keep  close  at  his  back 
and  follow  him  into  the  room  if  he  was  admitted, 
Duroc  stepped  quietly  to  the  door  and  boldly  knocked. 

A  voice  inside  asked: 

"Who  is  there?" 

"It  is  I,  Thorpe,  the  landlord,"  answered  Duroc,  in 
an  excellent  imitation  of  that  functionary's  voice. 

"Well,  we  are  busy,"  called  D'Artivan,  whose  voice 
the  detective  recognized. 

"But  it  is  important  that  I  see  you  for  a  minute; 
there  is  something  that  I  wish  to  say  to  you  privately, 
and  I  do  not  think  you  wish  me  to  shout  it  to  you,"  per- 
sisted Doroc,  still  feigning. 

"  Peste,  come  in  then,"  said  D'Artivan,  unlocking 
the  door,  and  opening  it  impatiently. 

The  next  instance  the  three  men  pushed  into  the 
chamber,  fiung  the  door  shut  and  locked  it,  and  con- 

283 


2Q4  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

fronted  the  two  occupants  with  their  weapons  pointed 
at  their  heads. 

The  astonishment  of  the  Marquis,  who  was  disguised 
in  the  same  manner  as  when  he  first  appeared  to  D'Ar- 
tivan  in  the  villa,  was  only  momentary.  For  more  than 
two  years  he  had  been  constantly  on  the  watch  for  sur- 
prises of  this  very  kind,  and  he  quickly  rallied  from  this 
one.  He  wore  a  sword  at  his  side,  and  carried  a  loaded 
pistol  always  in  the  breast  of  his  coat,  which  he  could 
grasp  in  an  instant.  He  plucked  it  from  the  pocket 
which  held  it,  cocked  and  presented  it  at  the  head  of 
Duroc  with  a  quickness  which  surprised  the  detective 
in  his  turn,  and  growled  fiercely: 

"  Fire,  if  you  choose,  all  of  you!  But,  by  God,  if  you 
do,  I  will  kill  thee  before  I  fall! " 

Duroc's  face  turned  crimson.  He  felt  not  a  particle 
of  fear,  but  he  felt  overwhelmingly  ashamed.  Here 
stood  his  quarry,  within  twenty  feet  of  him,  the  two 
with  swords,  and  one  of  the  two  with  a  loaded  pistol 
aimed  point-blank  at  his,  Duroc's,  head.  It  looked  very 
much  like  a  checkmate.  What  was  he  to  do?  It  was 
plain  that  the  Marquis  (for  Duroc  identified  the  noble- 
man under  his  disguise),  would  die  rather  than  surren- 
der himself  to  the  claws  of  the  wild-cat  Robespierre. 
But,  how  to  secure  him,  that  was  the  question  that  shot 
into  Duroc's  mind  as  he  looked  steadily  at  the  muzzle  of 
the  Marquis*  pistol.  He  had  not  lowered  his  own;  and 
as  the  two  stood  eyeing  each  other  with  weapons  aimed, 
they  appeared  like  two  duelists  waiting  for  the  signal 
to  fire. 

For  several  seconds-Duroc  said  nothing;  but  he  was 
thinking,  and  to  some  purpose.  At  length  he  said,  in  a 
perfectly  even,  impassive  voice: 

"I  think,  Marquis,  that  you  are  not  aware  of  the 
purpose  I  had  in  coming  into  this  room  without  leave. 


HELENE  SAINTE    MAUR.  295 

I  know  who  you  are,  you  see,  but  it  is  not  you  whom  I 
have  been  sent  to  take." 

"  Then,  what  in  the  fiend's  name  do  you  want  ? " 
demanded  the  Marquis,  savagely,  and  with  a  slight 
change  of  countenance. 

t"  Listen,  my  dear  Marquis,  and  I  will  inform  you," 
returned  Duroc,  in  an  unctious  tone,  and  without  remov- 
ing his  eyes  for  an  instant  from  the  nobleman's  face. 

"  I  am  an  agent  of  Citizen  Danton,  and  of  the  Police. 
Well,  these  two  powers  (they  are  very  intimate,  I  declare 
to  you)  are  interested  in  this  person  who  stands  beside 
you,  and  who  did  me  the  honor  on  one  occasion  to  make 
me  a  sort  of  father  confessor.  This  interest  is  so  great 
that  I  have  been  instructed  to  find  Monsieur  D'Artivan, 
and  to  bring  him  to  my  employer.  Well,  now  that  I 
have  found  him,  I  wish  to  take  him.  You  do  not  object, 
of  course,  provided  I  do  not  insist  on  your  accompany- 
ing him." 

The  attitude  and  manner  of  the  Marquis  and  of 
D'Artivan  during  this  address  differed  decidedly.  The 
former  listened  with  undisguised  but  restrained  inter- 
est, his  countenance  exhibiting  a  malicious  satisfaction. 
He  was  tired  of  his  tool,  who  had  betrayed  him,  and 
who  was  no  longer  useful  to  him.  True,  D'Artivan  had 
flown  to  warn  him  that  the  gens  d'arms  were  coming — 
after  he  himself  had  set  the  hound  Robespierre  upon 
his  track.  But  it  was  D'Artivan's  best  interest  at  that 
time  to  prevent  the  arrest,  because  he  held  the  latteryet 
in  a  measure  in  his  power.  He  had  no  compunctions 
in  considering,  as  he  was  at  this  moment  doing,  the  sur- 
render of  his  useless  minion,  and  he  rather  enjoyed 
doing  so. 

While  the  detective  was  delivering  himself  of  his 
cleverly  contrived  speech,  the  Gascon,  who  had  grasped 
his  rapier  viciously,  and  had  sprung  to  the  side  of  his 


296  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

master  at  the  entrance  of  the  detectives,  began  to 
tremble.  He  knew  that  the  Marquis  cared  not  a  baubee 
for  his  fate,  whatever  it  might  be,  and  that  he  was,  in 
fact,  incensed  at  what  he  had  sneeringly  termed  the 
treachery  of  a  coward,  when  he  had  confessed  that  it 
was  he  who  had  denounced  him  to  Robespierre.  And 
now,  during  the  little  interval  of  silence,  he  knew  intu- 
itively that  his  doom  was  about  to  be  pronounced,  the 
Marquis  would  purchase  his  own  safety  by  delivering 
him  to  the  detective.  He  became  ghastly,  and  his 
knees  shook  and  almost  refused  to  support  him.  In  the 
sight  of  a  penalty  the  criminal  is  always  penitent,  and 
at  this  vital  moment  the  Gascon  was  truly  sorry  that  he 
had  not  foregone  his  recent  vengeance.  As  he  thought 
of  the  terrible  punishment  he  had  received  at  the  hands 
of  Dumesnil,  a  cold  sweat  burst  out  upon  his  brow. 

"  My  lord  !  " 

D'Artivan's  voice  would  not  have  been  recognized,  it 
was  so  weak  and  quavering,  as  he  turned  his  ashen  face 
toward  the  nobleman. 

"  My  lord,  you  will  not  desert  me  ?" 

The  question  was  an  appeal,  uttered  in  a  whine. 

The  Marquis'  lip  curled  with  a  smile.  He  did  not 
turn  his  head,  or  reply  to  D'Artivan,  but  said  to  Duroc: 

"  I  have  no  interest  whatever  in  preventing  you  in 
the  performance  of  your  duty,  if  I  am  not  myself  inter- 
fered with.  Understand  this:  if  you  attempt  to  arrest 
me,  I  will  kill  you.  You  may,  perhaps,  fire  at  me  and 
wound  me,  even  to  the  death;  but  unless  your  bullet 
strikes  my  heart  or  my  brain  it  will  not  prevent  mine 
from  lodging  in  your  vitals.  You  know  that  the  aim  of 

the  Marquis  of  B has  never  failed.  So,  it  is  better 

that  we  understand  each  other  at  once." 

Duroc  smiled  amiably,  as  he  replied: 

"My  dear  Marquis,  nothing  prevents  you  from  leav- 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  297 

ing  this  room  at  this  moment — alone.  I  promise  you  I 
will  not  prevent  your  doing  so,  and  that  you  shall  not 
be  followed.  Leave  me  your  friend;  his  company  will 
solace  me  for  your  absence — and  loss." 

The  Marquis,  without  replying  to  this  facetious 
speech,  bowed  stiffly,  and  started  toward  the  door 
without,  however,  lowering  his  weapon.  But  D'Artivan, 
forgetting  to  keep  at  a  distance  from  his  pursuers,  and 
to  be  on  his  guard,  if  he  really  intended  to  resist  them, 
darted  after  the  recreant,  and  caught  him  by  the  long 
skirt  of  his  coat. 

"Oh,  my  lord,  my  lord!"  cried  he,  in  despairing 
tones,  "do  not  desert  me,  for  God's  sake  do  not!" 

But  the  Marquis  turned  savagely  upon  the  abject 
wretch,  and  dealt  him  a  severe  blow  in  the  face  with 
the  pommel  of  his  sword,  which  he  had  drawn  while 
moving  toward  the  door,  to  avoid  a  surprise. 

D'Artivan  fell  back  with  a  cry,  and  was  caught  in 
the  arms  of  the  two  assistants,  who  in  a  trice  had  his 
wrists  pinioned  with  a  stout  cord. 

As  the  Marquis  opened  the  door,  keeping  his  back  to 
it  and  his  face  toward  Duroc  the  while,  he  laughed 
mercilessly,  and,  flinging  a  look  of  contempt  at  the 
moaning  adventurer  whom  he  was  remorselessly  leav- 
ing to  his  fate,  he  said: 

"Tell  Robespierre  that  I  send  him  a  hostage  for  my 
appearance  hereafter;  and  that  I  will  come  to  him  at  the 
foot  of  the  guillotine!" 

The  next  instant  the  door  closed  upon  him;  the  key, 
which  he  had  quietly  abstracted  from  the  inside,  grated 
in  the  lock,  and  his  footsteps  rapidly  died  away  as  he 
hurried  down  the  staircase  without. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

IN  THE  CHATEAU  SAINTE  MAUR. 

The  library  in  the  St.  Maur  chateau  was  ablaze  with 
light,  although  it  was  past  one  o'clock  at  night.  It  con- 
tained four  persons,  Helene,  Dumesnil,  Duroc  and  the 
prisoner — D'Artivan.  These  four  were  seated  at  a  round 
table,  so  that  the  Gascon  sat  facing  the  hostess,  and 
Dumesnil  the  detective.  D'Artivan  was  still  bound; 
and  his  sullen  and  stealthy  aspect  proved  the  prudence 
of  this  precaution,  for  in  his  desperate  situation  he 
would  certainly  have  attempted  any  folly  that  suggested 
the  barest  possibility  of  escape  from  the  giant,  whom  he 
regarded  from  time  to  time  with  a  look  of  supreme  ter- 
ror. Dumesnil,  however,  who  had  been  sent  for  the 
moment  Duroc  appeared  at  the  chateau  with  his  pris- 
oner, had  only  given  him  a  glance  of  intense  loathing 
when  he  entered  the  library,  and,  taking  the  seat  at  the 
table  which  Helene  had  placed  for  him,  ignored  the 
wretch  from  that  moment,  keeping  his  great  eyes 
fastened  upon  those  of  Helene  with  a  look  of  solemn 
expectancy. 

"Your  name  is  D'Artivan?" 

It  was  Helene  who  spoke;  and  she  bent  her  piercing 
eyes  upon  the  cowering  wretch,  who  lowered  his,  but 
made  no  answer. 

"  It  was  you  who  caused  the  death  of  Paul  Cambray, 
by  the  most  cruel  and  dastardly  means,"  she  continued, 
ignoring  his  silence.  The  murderer's_head  sunk  lower, 
but  he  said  nothing. 

298 


HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR.  299 

•'  You  caused  the  death  of  an  innocent  man  whom 
you  called  your  friend,  and  who  had  treated  you  as 
such,  solely  from  the  desire  to  revenge  yourself  for  the 
scar  you  wear,  and  which  you  received  at  your  own  invi- 
tation, and  in  a  fair,  no,  an  unequal,  contest  with  a 
young  girl." 

The  Gascon  scowled,  and  he  shot  a  defiant  glance  at 
the  averted  face  of  Paul's  patron. 

"  Oh,  you  triumphed,  you  think,  because  you  escaped 
punishment  for  that  awful  crime,"  said  Helene,  observ- 
ing the  look.  "But  you  were  not  satisfied  with  tempt- 
ing your  fortune  once;  you  permitted  your  miserable 
passion  for  revenge  to  lead  you  on  to  the  commission  of 
another  crime.  You  abducted  the  poor  girl  whose 
courage  you  feared,  and  whom  you  hated  because  she 
would  not  overlook  your  insults." 

D'Artivan  glanced  quicky  at  his  accuser,  at  the  word 
"abducted,"  and  an  expression  of  cunning  flitted  over 
his  sinister  face.  Still,  he  said  nothing. 

"Yes,"  repeated  Helene,  whose  scrutiny  became 
closer,  as  she  proceeded:  "you  abducted  her,  but  we 
shall  recover  her;  and  if  harm  has  befallen  her  your  own 
fate  will  be  fearful." 

"D'Artivan's  face  turned  a  trifle  paler;  his  mouth 
twitched  nervously,  and  he  glanced  again  at  Dumesnil. 
Then  his  features  settled  into  a  dogged  frown,  and  he 
deliberately  stared  at  the  speaker  as  if  to  defy  her. 

It  may  be  wondered  at,  this  parleying  with  the 
miscreant  who  undoubtedly  knew  what  had  become  of 
Clarise:  and  it  may  be  asked  why  he  had  not  been  taken 
at  once  to  prison,  tried,  or  examined  there,  and  the 
truth  forced  from  him.  Instead  of  pursuing  that  regular 
course  he  had  been  brought  to  a  private  house — to  be 
reproached.  Every  moment,  under  this  mild  subjection, 
ho  was  becoming  bolder,  more  confident,  more  defiant. 


300  HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR. 

But  it  must  be  remembered  that  at  that  time  there 
was  in  Paris  absolutely  no  law;  nothing  but  misrule. 
There  was  no  tribunal  to  listen  to  and  to  redress  private 
wrongs,  or  punish  crimes  against  individuals.  The 
"  government  "  was  a  pretense;  the  office  of  justice  a 
cloak,  law  a  fiction.  D'Artivan  had  gone  to  prison  for 
murder  before  the  days  of  anarchy  had  begun,  and  had 
been  set  free;  he  would  go  to  prison  now  with  far  belter 
assurance  of  escape,  and  without  the  slightest  proba- 
bility that  he  would  ever  be  tried.  Once  behind  the 
gates  of  the  Conciergerie,  nothing  could  ever  be  got 
from  the  malignant  villain  which  would  lead  to  the 
rescue  of  Clarise.  if  alive,  or  the  discovery  of  her  remains, 
if  dead. 

Helene  had,  therefore,  determined  to  trust  to  her  own 
powers  to  wring  from  him  the  truth;  and  she  had 
directed  Duroc  to  bring  him  to  her  house,  when  he  sent 
her  word  of  the  capture.  The  very  change  in  D'Arti- 
van's  demeanor,  now,  was  what  she  expected  and 
desired  in  aid  of  her  purpose. 

When  D'Artivan  raised  his  head  to  glare  at  his  fair 
enemy,  she  looked  disconcerted.  D'Artiven  saw  this, 
and  a  smile,  at  once  insolent  and  exulting,  added  to  the 
distortion  of  his  vindictive  mouth.  He  continued  to 
stare  at  her  with  the  bravado  air  which  he  believed 
would  soon  confuse  her;  and  his  satisfaction  was 
extreme  when  he  observed  her  passing  her  white  hands 
swiftly  back  and  forth  before  her  face,  and  in  front  of 
his  eyes,  as  if  to  ward  off  their  powerful  beams.  She 
did  not,  meanwhile,  remove  her  own,  but  he  believed  k 
was  the  attraction  of  repulsion  which  kept  her  gaze 
steadfastly  fixed  upon  him,  and  he  stared  at  her  the 
harder. 

But  presently  a  change  began  to  steal  Into  his  face; 
the  stare  was  becoming  less  wavering,  le?s  conscious, 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  30! 

it  was  becoming  stony  and  fixed.  All  expression 
faded  from  his  face,  and  the  color  with  it.  His  figure 
assumed  a  stiff  and  unyielding  position,  as  he  sat  lean- 
ing back  in  his  chair;  and  at  short  intervals  he  drew  his 
breath  with  a  quick  gasp. 

At  length  Helene  ceased  moving  her  hands,  rose  up 
from  the  table,  and  said  to  the  astonished  witnesses: 

"This  man  is  now  no  more  than  an  automaton  with 
the  sense  of  hearing  and  the  power  of  speech.  What- 
ever I  bid  him  do,  he  will  attempt;  whatever  I  ask  him, 
he  will  answer.  Stand  away  from  me,  and  listen." 

Awestricken  at  this  to  them  miraculous  exhibition 
of  what  the  superstitious  age  regarded  as  astrology  ? 
necromancy,  or  "  the  black  art,"  the  two  men  retreated 
to  another  part  of  the  room,  where  they  stood,  mutely 
watching  the  face  of  the  hypnotized  prisoner. 

Going  to  his  side,  Helene  laid  her  hand  upon  one  of 
his,  not  without  a  movement  of  repugnance,  and  in  alow 
voice  of  command,  said  sternly  : 

"  Pay  strict  attention  to  what  I  say  to  you.  Of  whom 
are  you  thinking  ? " 

The  muscles  of  the  sleeper's  face  relaxed,  and  a 
revengeful  smile  played  about  his  lips,  as  he  answered, 
instantly  : 

"Of  that  vixen,  Clarise  Dechamp." 

"When  did  you  see  her  last  ?  " 

"Tuesday  evening,  at  a  little  past  seven." 

Duroc  started,  and  uttered  an  exclamation. 

"  Be  silent,"  cautioned  Helene,  raising  her  finger. 
Then,  turning  again  to  D'Artivan  : 

"Where  did  you  meet  her?" 

"  On  the  Pont  de  Louvre,  while  we  were  going  north 
of  the  river." 

"Who  were  with  you?" 

"  Two  of  my    friends,    Bompart  and   Estaing,    who 


-  .- 


do?    Tefln 

".  ~  . :  ~  ".:;..  n 


'-'---'    '  -  _'  ". ".   - " . ". .;      irr  :i :-:   '  i. .  r    :  ,:   ..tr  . ;  ;  i  ~i5   rr. ;  re 

"-"--:..        -      :  "  :      "  "  -  "-      -  '.      '.--'-        -':-:•        '..'.'.'.      '.         .      1 '  1 

':—  --:'  t-rii   t. 

."-  A",  "i-  :  --_•-,  -  :  •  -.---.--:—  ..--  ~  -  _  .  ;  ; . -;  -i-;- 
a  movement,  as  if  he  would  leave  his  chair. 

::::--:  - 1 ;.  - .  i  :>.- i  /.  i  -  •  . : -.  i  -:-::-.  v-  r.-::  i-.  ;. 
taring  her  hand  over  his  eyes  for  the  space  of  a  second, 

--:.-    \.-    :      --.---:...-• 

"  Speak  T" 

D" Artivan  shrank  back  in  his  seat. 

"When  the  girl  saw  as  coming  toward  her,  she 
crossed  to  the  other  side  of  the  bridge.  I  whispered  to 
Bevmpart:  'That  girl  tried  to  have  me  assassinated;  now 

•--.;:    .' ------    '----    '.=--':'-     "  -:     •----:  :--  =  V-     --  -     -:;--  -:  -.;--;  ;    ;-,.-. 

-^'  :-'---.•."------.'       L^'  ;  .--.  ••  ;•-.--  -'-,i. :.£-::,    :h 

of  von  stand  by  to  help  me  capture  her/  " 

"Bompart  and  Estaing laughed,  and  said:  'This  is 

'"  '  •      -.  '  ;:    :    '  :.'.;.;--;::_         -•  '   .    .";     ~. ;.; -..-,?. 

wed  a  cloak  on  bis  arm,  threw  it  to  me.  I  stepped 
-.  .  .'•:';•  z-. --.-.-.  :-.  -.'.-:  ;;.--.'.:;  .  :-  .:  ::.-  '-. .-.  ." :-:.  .- .  : 
beaded  the  girl  off.  She  stopped,  looked  angrily  at  me, 
and  said,  the  spitfire:  'How  dare  yotil  Let  me  pass,'" 

"Bat  I  bad  no  intention  to  allow  her  to  pass.  I 
opened  the  cloak,  and  said:  *  Bat  the  evening  is  chilly, 
my  dear,  and  I  think  you  had  better  bare  this  wrap/ 

"Then,  sapristi,  before  she  could  run  away,  or  give 
so  much  as  a  squeak,  I  had  thrown  the  cloak  over  her 
early  bead,  and  caught  it  close  under  her  pretty  chin. 


._.    ...........  ... 

I  shouted — 'Bompart!  Estaing!' while  I  rapidly wound 
the  folds  around  her  head,  until  she  was  better  muffled 
than  a  Queen's  mammy,  and  the  only  sound  that  came 
from  her  was  a  little  gasp.  My  friends  were,  for  once, 
useful;  I  could  not  have  managed  her  if  they  had  not 
been  there,  the  minx  kicked  and  twisted  so.  But  we  took 
her  up,  and,  as  it  was  then  quite  dark,  and  there  was 
no  one  except  ourselves  on  the  bridge,  we  crossed  back 
to  the  south  side  without  being-  molested  or  noticed. 
Then,  while  Kstamg  and  I  held  her  down  under  die 
shadow  of  the  parapet  by  setting  on  her  as  if  she  were 
only  a  great  bundle  we  were  tired  of  carrying;  I  sent 
Bompart  on  the  run  for  a  fiacre.  He  found  one  at  the 
foot  of  the  Pont  Nenf,  in  front  of  the  Cafe  Dauphin,  and 
we  placed  our  baggage  in  it,  after  a  little  tussle  (she 
was  as  strong  as  a  young  mule),  and  made  off." 

When  D'Artivan  began  this  infamous  disclosure, 
Dnmesnfl  stretched  his  ox-like  neck  toward  the  mis- 
creant, and  listened  with  an  intenseness  that  was  pain- 
ful to  witness.  As  the  tale  progressed,  die  cords  in  his 
neck  began  to  swell,  his  face  to  turn  purple,  his  huge 
chest  to  rise  and  sink  like  die  undulations  of  a  sea 
upheaved.  Once  or  twice  a  grinding  sound  issued  from 
his  glued  lips,  and  his  eyes  became  lurid.  As  D'Artivan 
paused  to  give  vent  to  a  laugh  at  die  image  before  his 
wandering  vision,  DumesnSV  seif^DontroJ  gave  way. 
Re--  :-.;  -:•;  ;.  :  .  ^..?  :  .  r  .  -.  -?:..  :  t  - .  -  •;  -_  ?  --- 
above  his  head,  and  with  a  roar,  which  jarred  every 
object  in  die  room,  he  bounded  upon  die  wretch  who 
sat  smiling  in  his  chair  and  all  unconscious  of  tKe  fright- 
ful peril  that  threatened  him.  He  did  not  even  bear  the 
tremendous  sound  which  bellowed  in  his  ears. 

Hdene,  Duroc,  aghast  and  horrified,  darted  toward 
Dnmesnil,  with  a  cry,  but  it  was  too  late.  As  they 
j  r  - :  r .:  :  •.  r  _;  ;.:-.:  v  .::-.:/.  r :  r  ;_: ?: r ;  :;•-.  ;-i  ;•  _r.  I  ?,  e  ~ '-. .  • .  k 


304  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

them  from  him  with  as  much  ease  as  if  they  had  been 
infants,  reached  down  and  grasped  the  throat  of  the 
doomed  wretch,  and  lifted  him  out  of  the  chair. 

"  Dog!  Fiend!  "  shouted  he,  as  he  held  the  limp  form 
in  the  air,  with  both  his  enormous  hands;  and,  jerking 
the  body  toward  him  with  fearful  force,  then  back  and 
forth — once,  twice — there  came  a  sound  of  cracking 
bones,  and  the  head  of  D'Artivan  hung  back  on  his 
shoulders  like  the  tassel  of  a  cap. 

Dumesnil  had  broken  the  Gascon's  neck! 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

THE   SEARCH    FOR   CLARISE. 

At  six  o'clock,  on  a  foggy  morning  in  September,  an 
elegant  coupe  stood  in  front  of  the  Cafe  Dauphin.  The 
Pont  Neuf  was  already  thronged  with  vehicles  of  almost 
every  conceivable  kind,  passing  either  way  over  this 
great  thoroughfare,  while  hundreds  of  pedestrians  were 
trooping  to  the  south  side  of  the  river. 

Many  of  these  were  sight-seers  merely,  and  when  a 
lady,  closely  hooded,  and  a  gentleman  of  extraordinary 
size  got  out  of  the  carriage  and  approached  the  door  of 
the  cafe,  a  score  of  people  stopped  to  look  at  them. 

"Ciel!"  exclaimed  one  vivacious  grisette,  poising 
herself  on  one  foot,  while  she  stared  saucily  up  into  the 
face  of  the  gigantic  stranger,  "have  you  stepped  down 
from  the  column,  Monsieur?  " 

At  this  allusion  to  the  statue,  which  loomed  out 
through  the  thick  fog,  there  was  a  laugh,  which  at  once 
caused  others  to  stop  and  listen.  No  Frenchman  or 
French  woman  is  ever  in  too  much  of  a  hurry  to  gos- 
sip or  to  enjoy  a  scene  on  the  street;  and  the  gentleman 
found  it  somewhat  difficult  to  thread  his  way,  with  the 
lady  on  his  arm,  through  the  throng  that  loitered  in 
front  of  the  hotel. 

Before  he  had  reached  the  door,  two  young  men, 
who  were  talking  loudly,  came  off  the  bridge,  and  as 
they  glanced  at  the  titanic  figure  one  of  them  grasped 
his  companion  by  the  arm  and  held  him  back. 

"  The  devil !  "  exclaimed  he.  "  Do  you  see  nothing, 
Bompart?  Look,  look,  stupid  !  '* 


306  HELENE    SA1NTE    MAUR. 

And  the  speaker  pointed  at  the  figure  of  the  gentle- 
man, who  had  heard  the  exclamation,  and  had  hastily 
turned  his  head  in  that  direction. 

"  What  do  you  wish  me  to  see  ? "  demanded  the  one 
called  Bompart,  staring  carelessly  about  him. 

"Why,  this  tall  gentleman,  of  course;  is  it  not  D'Ar- 
tivan's  enemy?"  returned  the  other,  pointing  to  the 
gentleman,  who  had  now  stopped  and  was  earnestly  gaz- 
ing at  him. 

Suddenly,  Dumesnil  (for  it  was  he)  stepped  close  to 
the  two,  and  said: 

"  Your  name  is  Bompart,  then?  " 

The  young  man  answered,  with  some  astonishment: 

"Certainly,  my  name  is  Bompart;  but  what  of  that? 
Do  you  know  me?" 

"  No/'  replied  Dumesnil,  composedly;  "  but  I  wish 
to  know  you.  Will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  step  into  the 
hotel  for  a  few  minutes?" 

Bompart,  still  more  astonished,  looked  at  his  friend. 

"  Well,  Estaing,"  said  he,  hesitatingly,  "  what  the 
deuce  is  this?" 

Estaing  shrugged  his  shoulders  carelessly. 

"  Oh,  we  can  very  soon  find  out.  It  can  do  no  pos- 
sible harm  to  accommodate  the  gentleman,  especially 
as  we  have  the  fog  in  our  throats,  and  a  stem  of  brandy 
will  cut  it." 

"An  excellent  suggestion,"  remarked  Dumesnil,  with 
a  smile;  "let  us  seek  the  remedy  at  once.  Excuse  me 
for  one  instant;"-  and  he  returned  to  the  side  of  Helene, 
who  had  accompanied  him  on  his  obvious  errand,  whis- 
pered a  word  to  her,  and  assisted  her  back  into  her  car- 
riage, which  remained  standing  where  it  was. 

The  three  men  then  entered  the  cafe,  and  Dumesnil, 
.without  consulting  his  new  acquaintances,  immediately 
requested  to  be  shown  to  a  private  room, 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  307 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  said  Dumesnil,  when  they  were 
seated  at  a  table,  with  a  bottle  of  brandy  and  glasses 
before  them,  "  I  will  explain  to  you  why  I  have  made  so 
curious  a  request,  as  soon  as  you  have  '  cut  the  fog  in 
your  throats.'  Permit  me  to  fill  your  glasses/' 

The  two,  wondering  very  much,  swallowed  the  liquor 
with  great  satisfaction,  and  Dumesnil  re-filled  for  them 
and  himself. 

"I  wish,"  Dumesnil  proceeded,  "  to  inquire  about  a 
transaction  in  which  you  recently  figured  with  one 
D'Artivan." 

Both  the  young  men  started  to  their  feet. 

"  Peste  !  "  cried  Bompart,  casting  a  quick  glance  of 
uneasiness  at  the  Captaki;  "  what  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

Dumesnil  regarded  Bompart  a  moment  with  a  satir- 
ical smile,  and,  without  moving,  answered  : 

"  I  mean  the  abduction  of  a  young  girl,  which 
occurred  on  Tuesday  night  last,  about  seven  o'clock,  on 
the  Pont  du  Louvre,  in  which  D'Artivan  was  the  prin- 
cipal and  you  two  were  accomplices." 

"  Dame  !  "  exclaimed  Estaing,  looking  toward  the 
door,  as  though  he  meditated  flight. 

"  Do  not  be  disturbed,  my  friend,"  remarked  Dumes- 
nil, coolly;  "there  is  no  occasion  for  it,  I  hope.  I  only 
ask  you  to  reply  honestly  to  my  questions,  and,  if  you 
went  no  further  than  to  assist  in  carrying  the  girl  off, 
no  harm  will  come  to  you.  Sit  down,  then,  unless  there 
is  something  more  than  that  against  you." 

The  calm  command  of  the  giant  reduced  the  pair  at 
once  to  submission.  They  resumed  their  chairs,  and, 
with  hands  that  shook  a  little,  seized  their  glasses  and 
gulped  down  the  contents. 

Somewhat  reassured,  Bompart  said,  questioning  his 
friend  with  his  eyes  : 

"  I    do  not  know   of   any  reason,    Monsieur,  why  we 


308  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

should  tell  you  anything  of  the  affair,  if  we  really  know 
anything  about  it,  unless  you  have  some  natural  interest 
in  her — in  the  case." 

"Certainly  not,"  chimed  Estaing,  gathering  com- 
posure from  the  brandy  he  had  drank." 

"Very  good,"  said  Dumesnil ;  "let  me  inform  you, 
then,  that  the  lady  whom  you  saw  with  me  a  moment 
ago,  and  who  is  now  waiting  for  me  in  the  carriage  out- 
side, is  the  mistress  of  the  poor  girl  whom  D'Artivan 
abducted,  and  is  deeply  attached  to  her.  We  are  search- 
ing for  the  maid,  and  we  know  from  D'Artivan's  own 
lips  that  it  was  his  friend  Bompart  and  his  friend 
Estaing,  who,  he  said,  are'always  borrowing  money  from 
him  and  never  paying  it  back,  who  helped  to  commit 
the  act." 

"  The  traitor  !  " 

"The  scoundrel  ! " 

These  indignantly  uttered  epithets  burst  from  the 
lips  of  the  two  men  at  the  same  instant,  and  at  the  same 
instant  they  vociferated: 

"  What  is  it  you  wish  to  know?" 

"  I  wish  to  know  where  the  girl  was  taken,  or  where 
she  is  now,"  said  the  captain,  with  emphasis. 

Eompart  and  Estaing  stared  at  each  other  without 
replying,  and  in  apparent  perplexity. 

"  Come,  gentlemen,"  exclaimed  Dumesnil,  sternly; 
"do  not  trifle  with  me,  nor  with  your  own  safety.  An- 
swer my  question." 

"Oh,  we  do  not  object  to  doing  so,"  returned  Bom- 
part,  seriously;  "  but  the  fact  is  that  we  do  not  know." 

"What,  you  do  not  know?  " 

Dumesnil's  eyes  were  begining  to  roll.  He  did  not 
believe  them. 

"  It  is  true,  Monsieur,"  said  Estaing,  gravely,  feeling 
exceedingly  uncomfortable  under  the  glance  of  the 


HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR.  309 

formidable  stranger.  "  You  see,  we  did  not  go  with 
D'Artivan.  He  would  not  permit  us  to  do  that.  He 
went  off  alone." 

"  In  a  fiacre." 

"Yes,  in  a  fiacre,  and  he  drove  toward  the  west." 

"And  do  you  know  the  driver  of  this  fiacre?" 
demanded  the  captain,  watching  Bompart  keenly. 

"  Yes,"  replied  he,  "  I  know  him  quite  well.  It  was 
I  who  went  for  him." 

"And  his  name? " 

"Jean  Turbot;  his  stand  is  at  the  next  bridge." 

"Good.  May  I  ask  you,  then,  to  go  for  this  Jean 
Turbot,  and  bring  him  here?  Your  friend  will  remain 
with  me  until  you  return." 

"  With  pleasure,"  acquiesced  Bompart,  who  rose  at 
once  from  the  table,  quaffed  another  fog-destroyer,  and 
left  the  room.  Scarcely  ten  minutes  had  elapsed  when 
he  returned,  bringing  with  him  a  hackman.  Dumesnil 
addressed  the  latter  quietly: 

"  My  good  fellow,  you  remember  carrying  a  passen- 
ger with  a  very  large  bundle,  which  these  two  gentle- 
men assisted  him  to  deposit  in  your  hack,  from  the  Pont 
du  Louvre,  last  Tuesday  evening,  do  you  not? " 

The  hackman  grinned,  winked  at  Bompart,  who, 
however,  subdued  him  with  a  frown,  and  answered: 

"  Oh,  I  recollect.     He  gave  me  forty  sols." 

"  Very  well;  where  did  you  take  the  man,  and  his 
bundle  ?  " 

The  hackman  drew  back,  and  said,  sullenly: 

"  That  is  another  matter,  pardi." 

Dumesnil  got  out  of  his  chair,  went  up  to  the  man 
and  took  him  by  the  arm. 

"  What!  You  will  not  tell?  But  I  have  the  means 
of  compelling  you,  do  you  know  that?" 

The  hackman  jerked  his  arm  violently,  but  the  hand 


310  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

of  Dumesnil  closed  upon  it  with  such  force  that  he  cried 
out. 

"  Come,  will  you  tell  ?  And  look  you,  if  you  do  not 
instantly  do  so  I  will  break  your  arm,  and  then  I  will 
give  you  to  a  gens  d'arm.  Now — be  quick!  " 

Dumesnil's  manner  was  so  terrifying,  his  grip  of  the 
hackman's  arm  was  so  painful,  that  the  latter  no  longer 
thought  of  refusing. 

"Well,"  he  grumbled,  "it  is  not  my  fault.  I  took 
the  gentleman  to  the  Rue  St.  Honore,  in  the  old  Fau- 
bourg, to  a  little  villa  where  the  Marquis  of  B used 

to  stay  sometimes." 

Dumesnil  groaned. 

"Thousand  thunders!  "  shouted  he;  "you  took  him 
there  ? " 

"I  swear  it,  Monsieur,"  answered  the  man,  frightened 
at  the  captain's  appearance. 

"Very  well;  you  will  drive  me  there  instantly,"  said 
the  latter.  "Gentlemen,  I  desire  that  you  will  go  with 
me." 

Bompart  nodded  to  Estaing,  and  assented.  They 
were  curious  to  see  the  end  of  this  strange  adventure, 
and,  besides,  they  had  nothing  now  to  fear  from  Dumes- 
nil, who  had  assured  them  of  this. 

Accordingly,  the  four  proceeded  outside  of  the  cafe 
at  once,  where,  after  informing  Heleneof  his  discoveries 
and  purposes,  he  requested  her  to  follow  the  fiacre  in 
her  carriage,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  two  vehicles  were 
rolling  westward.  As  they  drove  along  the  Quai  des 
Tuilleries,  Dumesnil  heard  some  one  calling  to  him.  It 
was  Duroc,  who  had  hailed  him  and  motioned  the  fiacre 
to  stop. 

"Ah,"  ejaculated  the  detective,  as  he  came  running, 
and  flourishing  a  small  package  in  his  hand,  "I  have 
been  following  you  all  the  way  from  the  Cafe  Dauphin." 


HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR.  31 1 

"You  have  news,  then?"  inquired  Dumesnil. 

"Yes,"  answered  Duroc,  looking  moodily  at  the  par- 
cel he  held,  "and  bad  news,  I  am  afraid." 

"Well,"  said  the  Captain,  uneasily,  "tell  it  to  me 
first,  and  then  get  in  Mademoiselle's  carriage  behind  us."' 

"Very  well,"  observed  Duroc,  gravely;  "I  have  in 
this  package  the  hair  of  Clarise  Dechamp!  " 

"  What  is  that? "  cried  Dumesnil,  aghast  at  this  start- 
ling information.  For  a  moment  he  could  say  no  more, 
but  sat  gasping,  and  grinding  his  teeth. 

Bompart  and  Estaing  glanced  at  each  other  fear- 
fully, and  turned  pale. 

Duroc,  who  had  been  standing  at  the  side  of  the 
vehicle,  leaned  inside,  opened  his  parcels  and  held  up 
before  the  horrified  passengers  a  '  switch'  of  long,  wavy 
tresses  of  a  beautiful  black  color,  glossy  and  fine. 

While  the  eyes  of  the  thre?  were  riveted  with  a 
horrid  fascination  upon  this  eloquent  witness  of  D'Ar- 
tivan's  crime,  Helene  called  to  them. 

"Why  are  you  stopping  so  long?" 

She  had  not  seen  Duroc  as  yet. 

"  Put  it  in  your  pocket,  for  God's  sake,"  groaned 
Dumesnil,  "and  say  nothing  now  to  Mademoiselle.  Get 
in  her  carriage  and  come  on." 

Helene  was  surprised  to  see  Duroc;  but  she  eagerly 
received  him,  and  began  to  question  him  at  once. 

The  detective  had  intended  to  tell  Dumesnil  that  he 
had  found  the  hair  at  a  hairdresser's  shop,  but  he  had 
not  time  to  do  so.  The  hairdresser  was  his  sister, 
Madame  Campan,  who  kept  an  establishment  in  the  Rue 
St.  Eustache.  It  was  an  inspiration  of  the  detective's 
to  look  at  every  purchase  of  hair  that  his  sister  made, 
and  get  the  particulars  from  her;  and  she  had  that 
morning  told  of  this  one.  The  person  who  had  brought 
it  to  her  was  a  man  whose  description  was  that  of 


312  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

D'Artivan.  He  had  told  her  that  it  was  the  hair  or  his 
fiancee,  and  that  he  was  compelled  to  sell  it  to  obtain 
money  for  the  burial  expenses.  He  was  very  tearful, 
and  she  had  given'him  a  good  price  for  it.  Duroc  had 
bought  it  from  his  sister,  and  then  hurried  to  the 
chateau,  where  he  was  informed  that  Mile.  St.  Maur 
had  driven  to  the  Cafe  Dauphin,  to  which  place  he  was 
to  hasten,  should  he  call  during  her  absence. 

During  the  ride,  Duroc  told  Helene  nothing  of  his 
discovery;  but  listened  dejectedly  while  she  expressed 
the  hope  that  in  a  few  minutes  she  would  see  her  poor 
Clarise,  and  that  all  would  be  well  again.  , 

As  yet  she  was  ignorant  of  the  fact  that  she  was 
going  to  the  house  of  her  wor,st  enemy,  the  Marquis  of 
B .  But  in  fact  that  "was  her  destination. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

IN   BLUEBEARD'S  DEN. 

When  Helene  and  those  who  accompanied  her 
entered  the  yard  of  the  villa  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Honore, 
it  was  still  early  in  the  morning.  They  were  not  sur- 
prised, therefore,  to  see  all  the  blinds  drawn,  and  no 
one  visible  at  the  windows  or  in  the  garden.  Duroc 
uttered  a  sigh  of  satisfaction  at  this;  they  were  all  the 
more  likely  to  obtain  an  entrance.  Dumesnil  had  halted 
the  carriages  half  a  block  away  from  the  house,  and 
requested  every  one  to  get  out.  Then  he  had  informed 
Duroc  that  they  were  going  to  the  Marquis'  villa,  much 
to  Duroc's  surprise.  The  latter,  as  well  as  Dumesnil, 
knew  something  of  the  desperate  character  of  the  Mar- 
quis; and  while  neither  of  them  expected  to  meet  the 
latter  here,  they  prepared  themselves  for  even  that 
improbable  contingency.  It  was  arranged  that  Helene 
should  go  to  the  door  alone,  while  the  others  ranged 
themselves  along  the  wall  of  the  house  so  as  not  to  be 
observed  by  any  one  on  the  inside  who  answered  her 
summons.  The  moment  the  door  opened,  Dumesnil, 
followed  in  order  by  Duroc,  Bompart  and  Estaing, 
should  precipitate  themselves  into  the  passage,  seize  the 
servant  and  suppress  any  outcry;  and  then  proceed  to 
explore  the  house. 

The  precautions  of  Dumesnil  and  Duroc  were  well 
taken,  their  arrangements  fortunate,  as  events  soon 
proved. 

Helene's  summons  brought  Barbaroux  to  the  door. 

313 


314  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

He  was  half  asleep  when  he  opened  it;  but  his  eyes 
brightened  with  astonishment  when  he  saw,  standing  on 
the  doorstep  before  him,  a  queenly-looking  figure,  a 
lady  closely  veiled,  who  asked  him  in  a  voice  of  irre- 
sistible sweetness: 

"  Is  your  master  at  home?" 

"No,"  your  ladyship,"  stammered  Barbaroux,  who 
was  still  further  bewildered  by  this  question.  Who 
could  this  great  dame  be,  who  came  to  his  master's 
house  at  nine  in  the  morning  and  called  for  him  so  non- 
chalantly? Barbaroux  stared  at  her  suspiciously  and 
held  the  door  a  little  closer.  Helene  thought  of  a  little 
stratagem. 

"  It  is  of  the  greatest  importance,"  said  she,  in 
a  grave  tone,  "that  I  should  communicate  with  your 
master.  His  safety  is  more  than  ever  threatened,  and 
he  must  be  warned,  if  he  succeeds  in  escaping  this  new 
danger." 

Now,  the  Marquis  was  at  that  very  moment  standing 
at  the  top  of  the  stair-landing,  and  he  had  heard  the 
voice  of  Helene  and  recognized  it.  Always  alert 
against  surprises,  he  had  just  risen  from  his  bed  when 
the  knocker  sounded  below,  and  had  hastily  slipped 
into  a  morning  robe  and  out  into  the  corridor  to  listen. 

The  sound  of  Helene  St.  Maur's  voice,  unlike  the 
voice  of  any  other  woman,  could  not  be  mistaken  by 
any  one  who  had  ever  heard  it.  And,  as  its  soft  notes 
ascended  the  stairs  to  him,  it  seemed  to  him  that  the 
house  was  whirling  around  with  him.  He  clutched  at 
the  balustrade,  or  he  would  have  .fallen.  For  an 
instant  he  thought  his  heart  had  ceased  to  beat,  and 
that  he  was  dying.  In  a  feeble  voice  he  called  to  his 
valet: 

"Barbaroux,  quick,  come  here!" 

The  valet  knew  from  his  master's  weak  and  gasping 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  315 

voice  that  something  serious  and  urgent  was  the  mat- 
ter. He  forgot  his  visitor,  forgot  to  close  the  door  and 
darted  up  the  staircase. 

Surprised,  but  not  disconcerted,  Helene  looked  into 
the  yard,  beckoned  to  her  companions,  and  in  a  moment 
the  four  men  had  noiselessly  entered  the  passage,  and 
had  closed  the  door  behind  them  and  locked  it.  The 
key  was  withdrawn  by  Duroc  and  placed  in  his  pocket. 

Helene  had  hurriedly  whispered  to  Dumesnil  as  he 
came  in: 

"The  Marquis  himself  is  here!" 

It  was  not  a  time  to  indulge  surprise,  and  Dumesnil 
evinced  none.  On  the  left  of  the  hall  a  door  opened 
into  the  parlor  where  the  Marquis  had  so  successfully 
masqueraded  with  D'Artivan,  and  into  this  Dumesnil 
hurried  his  three  aids,  leaving  Helene  alone  in  the  hall. 

The  apartment  into  which  the  party  retreated 
extended  back  to  and  communicated  with  a  library,  the 
door  leading  into  which  was  also  partly  open. 

"Come,"  said  Dumesnil,  advancing  toward  it,  "let 
us  go  in  here.  Something  will  come  to  pass  directly,  I 
tell  you." 

Followed  by  the  rest,  Dumesnil  took  possession  of 
the  library,  and,  closing  the  door,  locked  it.  The  four 
then  sat  down  beside  it  to  listen. 

Meantime  Barbaroux  had  flown  to  his  master,  in 
something  of  a  panic.  He  found  him  leaning  against 
the  wall  of  his  room,  ghastly  white  and  panting.  The" 
valet  ran  to  a  table  upon  which  was  a  carafe  of  brandy, 
poured  out  a  glass  nearly  full  and  put  it  to  the  lips  of 
the  Marquis,  who  drained  it  spasmodically  and  sank 
into  a  chair.  The  fiery  fluid  was  not  long  in  exhibiting 
its  potency.  As  it  ran  through  his  veins  and  mounted 
to  his  brain  the  color  returned  to  his  face,  his  eyes  took 


316  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

an  unusual  glow,  and  his  strained  features  relaxed  into 
a  smile  at  once  wicked  and  triumphant. 

"Where  is  the  lady?"  asked  he,  in  a  tense  .whisper, 
as  he  helped  himself  to  a  second  glass  of  the  brandy. 

"In  the  hall  below,"  responded  Barbaroux,  who  was 
frowning  anxiously  while  his  master  drank. 

"The  devil !  "  exclaimed  the  latter,  angrily  ;  "go  at 
once  and  beg  her  to  take  a  seat  in  the  parlor.  Then 
return  here  and  help  me  to  dress.  And  mind  you,  my 
excellent  Barbaroux,  I  shall  expect  you  to  make  me  up 
finer  this  morning — in  a  shorter  time,  too,  than  you  have 
ever  yet  done.  Now  hurry,  and  be  back  in  a  breath." 

The  key  had  scarcely  turned  in  the  door  of  the 
library,  when  the  valet  led  Helena  into  the  parlor. 
There  he  left  her  and  hurried  up  to  his  master,  whom 
he  was  greatly  annoyed  to  find  swallowing  his  third 
glass  of  brandy.  Evidently  the  Marquis  was  nerving 
himself  for  some  desperate  venture,  or  else  he  was  bor- 
rowing courage  to  meet,  albeit  in  his  own  house,  the 
woman  he  had  Sworn  to  humiliate;  whose  life  he  plotted 
night  and  day  to  blight. 

Helene,  in  the  meantime,  had  held  a  whispered  con- 
sultation with  her  friends;  and  it  had  just  been  under- 
stood that  they  were  to  wait  for  a  summons  from  her 
before  they  threw  themselves  upon  the  Marquis,  when 
they  heard  his  step  on  the  stairs.  Helene  seated  her- 
self a  few  feet  from  the  library  door,  and  assumed  a 
reserved  and  composed  manner,  which  was  decidedly  at 
variance  with  her  feelings 

The  Marquis  entered  the  parlor  with  a  lithe  step, 
smiling  and  extending  his  hand  with  as  much  court- 
liness as  he  had  ever  shown  in  the  drawing-rooms 
of  Marie  Antoinette  before  they  domiciled  pigs  instead 
of  patricians.  But  Helene's  cold  reserve  checked  him. 
She  simply  rose,  bowed  with  the  dignity  of  an  empress, 


HELENE    SAINTE   MAUR.  317 

and  resumed  her  seat.  The  Marquis  drew  a  chair  in 
front  of  her,  and  for  the  space  of  a  minute  they  sat  in 
silence,  looking  straight  into  the  eyes  of  each  other. 
There  was  a  mocking,  wicked  light  in  his,  a  steady, 
stern  questioning  in  hers.  Once  the  spell  of  those 
wonderful  eyes  had  fettered  his  brain,  and  filled  his 
heart  with  the  fires  of  a  volcano.  Now,  their  expression 
exasperated  him,  filled  him  with  the  rage  of  despair. 
He  hated  her  with  the  fierceness  of  a  tiger,  because  he 
loved  her  with  the  ferocity  of  a  savage. 

It  was  she  who  first  spoke;  and,  if  he  had  not  fortified 
his  strength  with  copious  draughts  of  the  strong  brandy, 
and  dulled  his  sensibilities  with  its  subtle  fumes,  he 
could  neither  have  endured  to  look  into  her  eyes  nor  to 
listen  to  her  voice  without  paling  and  trembling. 

"  I  have  come,"  said  Helene,  speaking  with  cold 
deliberateness,  "  to  ask  you  for  my  maid,  Clarise." 

The  Marquis  smiled;  and  Helene  saw  by  his  man- 
ner that  he  knew  beforehand  the  object  of  her  visit. 
She  felt  intensely  relieved  by  this  discovery.  It  was  he, 
then,  who  had  caused  Clarise  to  be  abducted,  or,  at  all 
events,  it  was  he  who  detained  the  girl  to  help  out  in 
some,  as  yet  to  her  unexplained,  way  his  nefarious 
schemes  of  vengeance  against  herself.  Had  he  not 
sworn  to  ruin  or  destroy  every  one  who  had  witnessed, 
connived  at  or  assisted  in  his  humiliation  and  misfor- 
tune ?  Both  Helene  and  Dumesnil  had  discovered  long 
ago  that  he  had  taken  such  an  oath;  and,  whatever 
might  happen  in  the  way  of  misfortune  to  any  one  who 
had  landed  at  Calais  from  the  pacquet  "  La  Charmante  " 
on  that  memorable  morning  so  far  in  the  past,  that  one 
should  look  to  the  Marquis  of  B as  its  author. 

Helene  waited  for  the  Marquis  to  speak;  but  he  only 
continued  to  smile  insolently,  toying  the  while  with  a 
rich  chain  which  hung  about  his  ruffled  throat.  He 


318  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

was  clad  in  a  toilet  of  the  period — the  last  relic  of  the 
old  regime,  when  coats  of  satin  and  velvet,  ruffles  of 
lace,  frilled  shirt-fronts,  powdered  hair,  and  their  elab- 
orate and  sumptuous  accessories,  were  still  worn  by  the 
remnant  of  the  noblesse.  He  had  his  missing  feature 
artificially  supplied,  and,  but  for  the  bold  wickedness  of 
his  expression,  would  have  impressed  a  stranger  as  a 
handsome  patrician.  Part  of  this  he  was,  and  all  of 
this  he  had  been.  But  to  Helene,  who  read  his  soul,  he 
was  a  repulsive  monster — nothing  more. 

Tired  of  waiting  for  some  admission  of  his  com- 
plicity with  D'Artivan,  she  spoke  again;  and  this  time 
imperiously: 

"My  lord,  I  have  not  come  here  to  see  you  smile,  or 
to  witness  your  unmanly  exultation  over  an  act  of 
revenge  which  would  disgrace  a  galley-slave.  I  have 
come  to  demand  that  you  restore  my  maid  to  me.  I  was 
told  by  your  wretched  tool  and  accomplice,  D'Artivan, 
that  he  carried  her  off  while  she  was  returning  home 
from  an  errand,  and  I  have  traced  her  to  this  house." 

The  Marquis  eyed  her  with  a  sudden  look  of  curi- 
osity. 

"Ah,  you  traced  her  here.  Through  whom,  may  I 
ask  you  ?  Not  through  D'Artivan,  sarely." 

"  No.  Outside  of  this  house  a  few  steps  from  here, 
is  the  driver  of  the  fiacre  who  brought  D'Artivan  and 
his  prey  to  this  place." 

The  Marquis  looked  uncomfortable.  He  glanced 
around  the  room  uneasily,  suspiciously,  and  his  hand 
unconsciously  stole  to  the  hilt  of  his  sword,  for  he  had 
come  down  in  full  court  costume  as  though  to  a  ball  in 
the  Tuilleries;  the  intense  vanity  of  the  man  keeping 
pace  with  his  malignancy. 

"And  you  think  that  your  maid  is  here  ? "  inquired  he, 
slowly. 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  319 

"  I  have  the  best  of  reasons  to  believe  she  is  here," 
replied  Helene,  sternly;  "and  I  trust  you  will  produce 
her  at  once." 

"  Is  your  maid,  then,  so  dear  to  you,"  queried  he,  in 
a  voice  of  extreme  bitterness,  "  that  you  can  not  spare 
a  thought  or  a  few  minutes  for  the  man  who  has  suffered 
so  much  for  you,  given  you  such  proofs  of  an  imperish- 
able love?  Do  you  feel  no  remorse  for  the  past  time?" 

The  Marquis  had  risen,  warming  as  he  spoke,  and 
stood  before  her  with  his  arms  folded,  his  eyes  glower- 
ing down  into  hers,  while  she  sat  still,  calmly  observing 
hun,  her  mind  wandering  after  the  invisible  Clarise,  who 
now  filled  all  her  thoughts.  Her  cold  and  indifferent 
manner  began  to  exasperate  him.  With  a  fierce  gesture 
he  flung  his  arms  apart,  and,  bending  over  her  until  his 
breath,  hot  with  the  fumes  of  brandy,  fanned  her  cheek, 
he  said,  in  a  hissing  voice: 

"Sorceress!  Worthy  spouse  of  Moloch!  You  gloat 
over  your  victims,  you  are  insatiable  for  more,  you  prac- 
tice upon  them  the  infernal  arts  of  Lucifer;  and  yet  you 
think  there  is  to  be  no  punishment  for  you.  Bah,  you 
are  unlike  the  leopard  in  but  one  thing — you  can  change 
your  spots!  Thus  you  deceive,  thus  you  succeed,  and 
thus  you  escape.  But,  I  tell  you,  Helene  Sainte  Maur, 
your  'divinity*  has  at  last  deserted  you.  You  have 
come  here  with  the  boldness  and  the  confidence  of  one 
who  has  befooled  men  too  long  to  fear  them.  Well,  we 
shall  see  what  you  will  think  of  one  man  now,  since  you 
have  thrust  yourself  into  his  power.  Now,  listen,  my 
beautiful  Diana;  you  are  here,  and  you  shall  remain 
here!  At  last  my  vengeance  is  about  to  be  complete; 
and  you,  yourself,  have  helped  me  to  make  it  so.  Ha, 
ha,  do  you  know  that  I  have  been  preparing  to  have 
you  here?  That  I  have  already  provided  you  with  a 
maid?  And  one  of  your  own  choosing,  too.  Come,  my 


320  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

beloved,  for  I  told  you  many  times  in  the  past  that  you 
were  that,  did  I  not?  Come,  then,  let  me  conduct  you 
to  your  chamber;  or,  would  you  prefer  that  I  should 
summon  your  maid." 

Helene  had  left  her  seat  when  the  inflamed  face  of 
the  Marquis  bent  over  her,  and  stepped  back  from  him, 
without  evincing  a  particle  of  fear.  Her  eyes  rested 
undauntedly  upon  him  while  he  stood  gloating  at  her. 
Had  no  succor  been  near,  it  is  doubtful  if  she  would 
have  felt  a  tremor.  Scorn,  loathing,  anger  and  the 
determination  to  rescue  Clarise  dominated  every  feel- 
ing for  herself. 

When  the  Marquis  offered  jeeringly  to  send  for  her 
maid,  a  thrill  shot  to  Helene's  heart.  Instantly,  but 
with  no  apperances  of  eagerness,  she  said,  indifferently: " 

"  You  are  not,  then,  entirely  brutalized.  As  I  am  here 
alone,  send  for  my  maid." 

Eyeing  her  curiously,  and  with  some  freakish  idea 
stirring  in  his  now  overstimulated  brain,  the  Marquis 
bowed  to  her  with  a  strained  deference,  went  to  the 
door  and  called: 

"Barbaroux!  " 

The  valet  w"as  close  at  hand. 

"  Bring  Mademoiselle's  maid  to  her;  and  be  careful 
to  hold  her  tightly  by  the  hand,  else  she  may  run." 

Helene's  breath  began  to  come  in  gasps.  Was  it  in 
fact  Clarise  who  would  enter  the  room  in  a  moment  or 
two?  Ah,  pray  Heaven  it — 

The  parlor  door  was  suddenly  thrown  open,  and  a 
young  woman,  with  a  closely  shorn  head,  haggard,  wild- 
eyed,  and  dressed  in  shabby  garments,  slowly  crept  into 
the  parlor.  Her  face  was  of  a  dark  tan  color,  her  head 
rested  droopingly  on  her  chin,  and  she  did  not  look  up. 
Her  hands  were  crossed  behind  her.  • 

The  shadows  in  the  room  were  deep,  and  only  stray 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  321 

rays  of  the  morning  sun  came  timidly  through  the 
Venetian  blinds;  but  the  indistinct  light  fell  upon  the 
girl's  thin  figure,  and  Helene's  heart  sank.  She  turned 
to  the  Marquis,  who  stood  near  the  window,  humming 
in  a  jocular  voice  a  couplet  from  a  theatre  ballad,  and 
sent  her  summons  ringing  upon  his  startled  senses: 

"  Dumesnil!  " 

There  was  a  crash,  the  tread  of  feet,  and  the  Marquis 

of  B was  shaking  like  a  reed  in  the  grasp  of  the 

giant. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

A    BAFFLED    VILLAIN. 

The  sword  of  the  Marquis  was  at  his  side,  in  his 
bosom  was  a  loaded  pistol ;  but  his  hands  were  pinioned 
to  his  breast  by  the  wrists,  and  he  was  swayed  back  and 
forth  in  the  grip  of  a  Hercules.  Taken  utterly  by  sur- 
prise as  he  had  been,  he  nevertheless  lost  neither  his 
courage  nor  his  self-possession  ;  but,  as  Dumesnil  forced 
him  down  into  a  chair,  his  eyes,  full  of  implacable  hate, 
looked  unflinchingly  into  the  skipper's  face,  and  he 
hissed  out  a  question  which,  at  least,  was  reasonable — 

"What  do  you  mean  by  this  assault?" 

Before  Dumesnil  could  answer,  he  was  startled  by  a 
scream  from  the  other  end  of  the  room,  followed  by 
another  from  Helene.  Dumesnil  started  back  from  the 
Marquis'  chair,  and  turned  toward  the  rest  of  his  party, 
who  were  already  hovering  over  the  form  of  the  strangq 
girl,  who  lay,  as  if  dead,  on  the  threshhold  of  the  room, 
Helene,  kneeling  down  upon  the  carpet,  was  calling  in 
entreating  tones  : 

"Clarise,  Clarise,  it  is  I,  your  mistress.  Do  you  not 
hear  me  ? " 

In  his  astonishment  Dumesnil  forgot  his  prisoner, 
and  stood  staring  stupidly  at  the  scene;  while  Duroc, 
indulging  his  professional  weakness,  had  drawn  th« 
stolen  tresses  from  his  pocket,  and  was  holding  them 
before  the  eyes  of  his  bewildered  patroness  and  smiling 
triumphantly. 

Dumesnil  advanced  to  the  group  and  peered  eagerly 

322 


HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR.  323 

at  the  prostrate  girl,  who  had  just  opened  her  eyes,  and 
now  turned  them  with  as  look  of  intense  affection  upon 
Helene.  Yes,  they  were  Clarise's  eyes  ;  it  was  Clarise 
herself,  but — 

"My  God!"  shouted  Dumesnil,  gazing  down  upon 
her  with  amazement;  "what  have  they  done  to  her?" 

Clarise,  who  had  lifted  her  eyes  and  looked  at  Helene 
when  the  latter  called  to  Dumesnil,  had  recognized  her 
mistress,  and  had  tried  to  speak  to  her,  but  her  voice 
failed  her,  she  was  weak  from  fasting,  and  the  shock  of 
Helene's  presence  overcame  her.  With  a  faint,  pleading 
cry,  she  sank  to  the  floor,  murmuring: 

"  My  mistress!  "and  swooned  away,  as  Helene  started 
toward  her. 

Meantime,  everyone  had  been  too  absorbed  in  the 
discovery  of  the  lost  Clarise,  and  in  their  attempts  to 
revive  her,  to  think  of  the  Marquis.  But,  as  the  girl 
regained  consciousness,  Bompart  stole  a  look  at  the 
other  end  of  the  room,  and  cried: 

"Hello!  Where  is  the  Marquis?" 

The  four  men  instantly  focused  their  eyes  upon  the 
empty  chair,  for  empty  it  certainly  was.  Then  they 
made  a  simultaneous  rush  for  the  library,  the  door  of 
which  Dumesnil  had  burst  open  when  he  was  summoned 
by  Helene.  The  latter  merely  turned  her  head  in  the 
direction  they  had  taken,  and  quietly  went  on. bathing 
the  face  of  Clarise  with  the  contents  of  her  vinaigrette. 

Duroc  was  the  first  to  dash  into  the  library.  It  had 
no  other  entrance1  but  the  window  on  the  garden  side 
was  open.  The  Marquis  had  not  been  as  interested  in 
the  condition  of  Clarise  as  the  others  had  been,  and  had 
naturally  given  his  attention  to  his  own  case,  and  with 
gratifying  results. 

Duroc  was  overcome  with  chagrin;  Dumesnil  with 
disappointment, 


324  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

"  Sacre!  "  growled  the  latter,  "  the  scoundrel  is  a  fox 
as  well  as  a  wolf.  He  is  off.  Still,  we  will  search  the 
house  all  the  same." 

"Yes,"  exclaimed  Duroc,  angrily;  "  and  I  will  not  let 
him  get  off  the  next  time." 

"Oh,"  laughed  Dumesnil,  who  had  now  recovered 
his  good  humor,  as  he  sa'w  Helene  and  Clarise  sitting 
together  and  looking  very  grateful,  "the  'next  time,' 
my  friend,  is  the  invariable  excuse  of  inexperience.  It 
is  an  apology." 

Duroc  colored  with  mortification. 

"After  all,"  he  said,  rallying,  "we  have  done  all  that 
we  set  out  to  do.  We  have  captured  the  abductor,  and 
we  have  recovered  the  girl." 

"And  you  have  proved  yourself  a  good  hunter," 
added  Dumesnil,  "since  you  have  recovered  a  scalp." 

The  search  throughout  the  house,  of  course,  was 
unavailing.  Neither  the  Marquis  nor  his  valet  was 
found;  the  villa  was  absolutely  deserted,  apparently, 
and  the  explorers  returned  to  the  parlor.  There  they 
were  met  by  Helene  with  several  commissions. 

"Monsieur  Dumesnil,"  said  she,  "you  will  find  me  a 
room  in  the  house  where  I  can  assist  my  maid  to  change 
her  clothing  and  appearance;  and  mind  that  there  is 
plenty  of  water  and  some  soap,  and  several  towels.  You, 
Monsieur  Duroc,  will  go  to  the  nearest  cafe  and  order 
a  breakfast  for  all  of  us,  to  be  sent  here  as  quickly  as 
possible." 

"  What! "  cried  Dumesnil,  astonished  at  this  last  com- 
mand, "you  will  breakfast  here,  in  this  house?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Helene,  smiling  at  his  ludicrous 
gestures.  "  Besides,  Clarise  has  eaten  nothing  since 
yesterday  morning,  and  very  little  of  anything  since  she 
came  here.  She  is  very  weak.  Go,  both  of  you." 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  325 

Duroc  hurried  out  of  the  house  to  execute  his  com- 
mission, with  an  amused  smile  on  his  face. 

"  Dame!  "  muttered  he,  "  if  we  only  had  the  Marquis, 
I  should  enjoy  my  breakfast  this  morning,  sacre,  yes." 
When  Duroc  returned,  two  servants  from  the  cafe  in 
the  Hotel  d'Angleterre  came  behind  him  with  two 
immense  waiters  covered  with  large  napkins  of  snowy 
damask.  In  ten  minutes' they  had  spread  the  contents 
on  the  table  in  the  dining-room,  and  the  six  uninvited 
guests  of  the  Marquis  of  B sat  down  to  a  delight- 
ful breakfast,  with  the  best  possible  appetites.  Clarise 
was  transformed  into  her  former  self  now,  except  that 
she  was  very  pale,  and  her  cheess  and  form  were  not  as 
plump  as  was  their  wont.  The  tan  had  been  washed 
from  her  face,  and  the  discovery  that  it  had  been 
stained  excited  the  curiosity  of  the  men  to  such  an 
extent  that  they  overwhelmed  her  with  questions.  But 
Helene  refused  to  permit  her  to  talk. 

"Do  not  insist  on  her  answering  now,"  said  she; 
"she  is  too  weak,  and  she  must  eat  and  then  rest, 
before  everything.  We  will  go  from  here  to  my  hotel, 
and  there  you  shall  hear  her  tell  her  story.  I  promise 
you  it  will  be  an  interesting  one."  And  Helene  looked 
with  an  affectionate  smile  at  Clarise,  into  whose  wan 
face  a  little  pink  blush  stole  for  a  moment. 

With  this  promise  they  contented  themselves;  and 
the  success  of  the  morning,  the  happiness  of  the  two 
who  were  reunited  and  the  novelty  of  the  situation  all 
tended  to  make  this  breakfast  one  that  was  not  to  be 
forgotten.  It  would  probably  have  added  to  the  zest  of 
the  occasion  if  they  had  known  that  the  Marquis  and 
Barbaroux  were  directly  beneath  them,  in  a  secret  sub- 
cellar  which  the  precious  pair  had  burrowed  out,  and 
in  which  they  had  concealed  themselves  a  few  minutes 
after  the  master's  escape  from  the  parlor.  Here  they 


326  HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR. 

waited  for  an  hour  or  more  before  venturing  up;  and 
when  they  stole  through  the  house  and  saw  the  various 
evidences  of  a  "  free  tenancy"  of  the  premises  by  the 
rescuing  party,  the  Marquis  turned  to  Barbaroux  and 
said: 

"  By  Heaven,  if  I  had  that  woman  for  a  wife,  I  believe 
I  could  conquer  a  continent." 

Clarise  had  declared,  ten  minutes  after  finishing  her 
breakfast,  that  she  felt  a  cold  terror  in  remaining  any 
longer  in  the  "house  of  Bluebeard";  that  she  felt  sure 
he  was  watching  them  from  a  place  of  concealment,  and 
begged  her  mistress  to  leave  the  horrid  prison  at  once. 
There  was  no  occasion  for  remaining  any  longer,  if  not 
on  Clarise's  account,  and  accordingly  the  whole  body 
unceremoniously  abandoned  the  premises,  the  freakish 
humor  of  Bompart  moving  him  to  hang  upon  the  out- 
side knob  of  the  front  door  the  discarded  rags  of  Clarise, 
with  an  inscription  pinned  to  them: 

"  These  are  the  clothes  of  a  girl  who  was  eaten  by 
the  cannibal  who  inhabits  this  den." 

No  sooner  were  the  doors  of  Helene's  boudoir  closed 
upon  the  six  tired  adventurers  than  Clarise  was  impor- 
tuned to  tell  the  story  of  her  imprisonment  A  glass 
of  wine  was  brought  to  her,  she  was  made  to  recline  on 
the  soft  cushions  of  a  divan,  and,  with  her  five  eager  list- 
eners grouped  around  her.  she  began: 

"You  know  how  I  was  caught  on  the  bridge,  all  of 
you,  especially  you  two,"  turning  her  eyes  with  a  little 
grimace,  that  was  not  at  all  spiteful,  at  the  two  young 
men.  Then,  as  they  showed  the  most  comical  con- 
fusion, and  the  most  sorrowful  contrition,  she  laughed 
merrily,  though  in  a  pathetically  weak  voice,  and  said  : 

"Do  not  be  distressed,  however,  you  were  deceived 
by  that  horrid  creature  who  was  the — " 

Clarise's  tone  changed;  she  broke  off  the  sentence 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  327 

with  a  sob,  as  she  looked  down  at  her  black  dress.  She 
had  suddenly  thought  that  it  was  D'Artivan  to  whom 
she  owed  all  her  misery,  Paul's  death,  the  mourning 
garments  she  was  wearing.  There  was  a  tear  even  in 
Dumesnil's  big  eyes,  as  they  watched  the  pitiful  quiver- 
ing of  the  pretty  chin,  of  the  tender  little  mouth,  and 
the  silent  effort  she  made  to  repress  her  emotion. 

In  a  moment  or  two  she  continued: 

"  I  had  no  idea  where  I  was  being  taken;  but  the 
fiacre  had  not  gone  far  when  it  stopped.  I  could  not 
hear  what  was  said  then,  but  I  was  carried  by  two  per- 
sons into  the  house  where  you  found  me,  and  up  a  stair- 
way. When  the  cloak  was  taken  off  I  looked  quickly 
around,  and  saw  D'Artivan  and  the  Marquis  and  that 
old  valet  Barbaroux  standing  over  me.  They  had 
placed  me  on  a  chair,  in  a  room  in  the  top  of  the  house; 
the'one  I  showed  to  you,  Mademoiselle,  and  which  had 
only  one  little  window.  Two  lamps  were  burning  on 
the  shelf,  and  I  could  see  the  faces  of  the  three  men 
quite  plainly.  D'Artivan  was  laughing  to  himself,  like 
a  demon;  the  Marquis  was  looking  at  me  as  if  he  was 
considering  what  I  would  sell  for,  or  what  I  would  be 
good  for.  I  learned  the  very  next  morning  what  his 
look  meant,  as  you  will  see.  Barbaroux  was  looking 
sullen. 

"  Well,  they  soon  left  me,  the  Marquis  telling  the 
valet  to  lock  the  door  on  the  outside  and  keep  the  key 
in  his  own  pocket.  I  was  greatly  distressed  when  I 
thought  of  how  defenceless  I  was.  I  went  to  wonder- 
ing whether  Mademoiselle  would  ever  find  me;  if 
D'Artivan  meant  to  kill  me,  because  I  had — had  wounded 
him ;  if  the  wretches  intended  to  keep  me  there  or  take  me 
somewhere  else.  Then  I  fell  to  trembling,  and  at  last 
I  fell  asleep  in  my  chair. 

"  I  nras  disturbed  once  by  some  one  trying  the  door,  I 


328  HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR. 

think;  and  when  I  was  quite  awake  in  the  morning 
Barbaroux  came  to  the  room,  unlocked  the  door,  and 
walked  in.  He  had  a  bundle  in  one  hand,  and  a  waiter 
with  food  on  it  in  the  other.  I  was  very  hungry,  and  I 
wanted  to  keep  up  my  strength,  so  that  I  might  be  the 
better  able  to  help  myself,  so  I  ate  my  breakfast. 

"  Barbaroux  sat  by  the  window  while  I  ate,  and  when 
I  had  finished  I  said  to  him: 

"  What  is  your  name? " 

"He  was  very  sullen,  and  he  did  not  wish  to  talk, but 
he  answered,  'Barbaroux/  Then  I  asked  him  what  I 
had  been  brought  there  for.  He  looked  at  me  a  minute 
without  speaking,  and  then  he  got  up  and  opened  the 
bundle.  What  do  you  think  was  in  it?  Mon  Dieu,  only 
some  ragged  clothing,  and  a  dark,  moist  sponge! 

"'  What  are  these  things  for?'  I  asked,  quite  aston- 
ished. 'They  are  for  you,'  answered  the  man,  'and  as 
soon  as  I  go  out  you  are  to  dress  yourself  in  them  and 
fold  up  your  own  clothes  and  place  them  on  this  chair. 
Then,  you  are  to  take  this  sponge,  and  apply  it  to  your 
face  and  hands,  until  you  have  given  them  a  nice  brown 
color,  like  the  Marseillaise  women  have.  You  must  noc 
be  too  long  at  it,  either,  because  my  master  will  come 
to  you  shortly,  since  it  is  he  who  will  tell  you  what  you 
are  here  for.' 

"  Do  you  think  I  was  not  astonished,  or  angry?  Do 
you  think  I  was  frightened?  Well,  I  was  so  much  aston- 
ished that  I  could  not  speak  for  a  whole  minute.  Then 
I  became  so  angry  that  I  ran  to  the  chair  upon  which 
Barbaroux  had  laid  the  clothes,  and,  picikng  them  up,  I 
carried  them  to  the  window,  intending  to  throw  them 
out  into  the  garden;  but  the  window  was  fastened,  and 
the  shutters  were  closed  and  nailed.  I  threw  the  rags  on 
the  floor,  and  faced  the  man: 

'"You  old  wretch,  '. I    screamed;  'do  you  think  I  will 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  329 

ever  put  on  those  tatters,  or  paint  myself  either?    No. 
Do  you  hear?  No,  no-o!' 

"You  see,  I  was  not  a  bit  afraid,  that  is — just  then. 
But  Barbaroux  only  laughed  to  himself,  and — yes,  I  will 
tell  you  what  he  said:  '  Oh,  if  you  require  a  lady's  maid, 
I  am  very  skilful.  I  am  going  away  now;  but  I  will 
come  back  in  half  an  hour,  and  if  your  toilet  is  not  then 
finished — well,  the  Marquis  says  that  I  must  dress  you 
myself!" 

"  Before  I  could  recover  from  this  monstrous  speech, 
the  wretch  had  gone  out.  Then  I  was  afraid.  I  sat 
down  and  trembled,  and  I  thought:  'After  all,  what  does 
it  matter?  I  must  be  wise,  if  I  hope  for  any  help  out  of 
this/  So  I  put  on  the  clothes,  and  you  saw  what  a 
fright  I  was  in  them,  did  you  not?  And  then  I  painted 
my  skin,  and  made  myself  so  horrid  that  I  could  not 
help  laughing. 

"  Directly  the  Marquis  came,  wearing  his  green  flap 
over  his  nose.  He  sat  down  and  looked  at  me.  I  looked 
at  him  also,  and  said  nothing. 

'"Do  you  want  your  liberty?'  ashed  he,  after  a  little. 
I  replied,  'That  is  foolish;  everything  wants  liberty.' 
He  smiled  at  this,  and  said:  'Perhaps  you  would  like 
to  be  rich?'  I  began  to  feel  uneasy  again.  But  I 
answered  him,  quite  severely:  'Perhaps.' 

"  Then  the  villain  got  up,  and,  coming  up  to  me,  he 
held  out  a  large  handful  of  beautiful  diamonds,  moving 
them  before  my  eyes  so  that  they  sparkled    like  little 
(suns,  and  said,  in  a  low  voice: 

"'All  these  are  yours,  if  you  will  do  one  thing  for 
me/ 

"I  began  to  feel  more  afraid  than  at  first.  'What  is 
that  one  thing?'  I  asked  him,  and  I  recollect  that  my 
voice  was  quite  as  low  as  his.  He  leaned  over  my  chair, 
and  said: 


330  HELENE    SAINTE   MAUR. 

'"I  will  give  you  a  deadly  poison  in  a  little  vial  and 
you  will  put  ten  drops  of  it  in  your  mistress's  coffee, 
and  ten  drops  into  the  coffee  of  Sir  Philip  Belmore,  the 
first  time  they  breakfast  together  at  the  chateau.  I  know 
they  do  so  at  least  once  a  week,  and  it  will  not  be  at  all 
difficult  for  you  to  do  this  for  me,  and  you  can  not  be 
discovered,  because  in  these  irregular  times  there  are  no 
investigations.  Then,  as  soon  as  they  are  dead,  which 
will  be  the  case  within  an  hour,  you  may  come  to  me, 
and  I  will  give  you  these  jewels;  they  are  worth  one 
hundred  thousand  francs,  and  you  can  buy  a  pretty 
husband  and  a  pretty  cottage  with  them.  Will  you 
earn  them!' 

"  Mon  Dieu!    What  do  you  think  I  did  then? " 

Bompart,  who  had  been  leaning  forward,  lost  in  the 
recital,  and  drawing  his  breath  excitedly,  surprised 
every  one  with  an  answer: 

"  Noble  girl;  you  refused. " 

Every  one  smiled  except  Clarise,  who  looked  at  Bom- 
part  disdainfully. 

"  Well,  I  was  no  more  afraid,  I  was  enraged.  I 
sprang  out  of  my  chair,  and  with  both  my  hands  I  caught 
the  villain  by  his  cravat,  and  twisted  it  so  hard  that  it 
made  his  face  purple,  before  he  could  release  himself. 
He  threw  me  away  from  him,  and  I  fell  against  the  arm 
of  a  chair  and  fainted. 

"  When  I  came  to  my  senses,  Barbaroux  was  sitting 
over  me.  I  was  lying  on  a  sofa,  and  my  head  and  fore- 
head were  bound  with  a  wet  handkerchief.  I  felt  very 
queer  on  top  of  my  head,  and  I  put  my  hand  up  to  see 
what  was  the  matter.  My  God!  they  had  cut  off  my 
hair!  Well,  I  gave  a  frightful  scream,  and  fainted  again. 
"  Nobody  was  in  the  room  when  I  recovered  that 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  331 

time;  but  Barbaroux  came  to  bring  me  my  dinner,  and 
when  he  put  it  down,  he  whispered  to  me? 

" '  Do  not  eat  of  the  soup,  nor  the  meat,  neither  at  this 
nor  any  meal  here.' 

"I  was  frozen.  I  could  only  gasp  out  to  the  man, 
as  he  went  out: 

"  '  What  is  to  be  done  with  me? '  " 

"  Barbaroux  hesitated  a  little,  and  then  came  into 
the  room  again,  and  whispered:  '  As  soon  as  you  are  abso- 
lutely under  the  influence  of  the  drug  which  is  in  the 
food,  and  which  only  causes  the  mind  to  wander,  and 
creates  a  stupor,  but  does  not  put  the  brain  to  sleep, 
D'Artivan  will  carry  you  away,  the  Bon  Dieu  knows 
whither.  Be  careful! ' ' 

"  After  that,  I  was  afraid  to  eat  at  all,  and  by  this  time 
I  should  probably  have  been  stupefied  from  starvation  if 
you  had  not  come." 

Clarise  had  finished  her  story,  which  had  certainly 
not  been  tedious  to  her  friends.  Bompart  had  mani- 
fested the  most  feeling  during  its  recitals;  and  as  she 
concluded  and  sank  back  exhausted  on  her  cushions,  he 
rose  and  went  to  her. 

"Ah,  Mademoiselle!'  said  he,  seizing  her  hand;  "it 
is  of  you  that  I  have  dreamed,  it  is  of  you  that  I  shall 
always  dream  from  this  moment.  You  are  a  heroine!  " 

It  was  plainly  seen  by  the  rest  that  Bompart  had  been 
captured  by  the  pretty  prisoner  herself. 

Just  at  this  moment  there  was  a  loud  commotion 
in  the  street.  Vehicles  were  rumbling  along  at  an 
unwonted  speed  in  the  quiet  and  slow  Faubourg,  a  babble 
of  voices  sounded  through  the  great  mansion  as  if  it 
had  suddenly  been  invaded,  and  the  tramp  of  thousands 
of  feet  upon  the  stone  pavements  drew  everv  one  to  the 
windows. 

A  great  throng  was  passing;  a  throng  in  whirl)  there 


332  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

were  mocking  and  jeering  faces,  faces  that  were  stern 
and  gloomy,  faces  that  wore  an  expression  of  terror. 
They  were  all  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  field  of 
blood — Place  de  la  Revolution. 

"  What  can  it  mean  ? "  queried  Helene,  with  a  sinking 
voice. 

As  if  the  throng  had  heard  her  shrinking  question,  a 
hoarse  and  deep-lunged  cartman  rose  and  stood  upon  the 
seat  of  his  tumbril  as  it  rattled  past,  and  shouted  to  the 
people  in  the  houses: 

"  Marie  Antoinette  is  going  to  the  bldfck  to-day  !  A 
bas  1'Austrienne ' " 

And  as  the  brute's  voice  died  on  the  choking  air,  a 
woman,  whose  white  face  rivaled  the  marble  of  Diana's, 
sank  down  at  the  window  of  the  stone  chateau,  and  was 
covered  with  the  hands  over  which  the  Queen  of  France 
and  Navarre  had  wept. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

THE   QUEEN   IS   DEAD. 

The  Queen  was  dead.  The  last  great  tie  that  had 
bound  Helene  St.  Maur  was  snapped  when  the  axe  of 
the  assassin  fell  upon  the  neck  of  the  defenceless  and 
unoffending  victim  of  French  malevolence,  brutality  and 
communism.  The  chateau  was  a  house  of  mourning, 
and  its  occupant  and  mistress  was  preparing  to  depart 
from  a  land  she  had  learned  to  loathe. 

On  the  twentieth  of  October,  Helene's  arrangements 
having  been  completed,  she  sent  for  Danton. 

Danton  was  now  at  the  zenith  of  his  power.  He  was 
a  lion  among  the  stern  and  bloodstained  spirits  of  the 
Revolution,  but  to  Helene  St.  Maur  he  was  a  slave. 
Not  that  she  imposed  such  bondage  upon  him  ;  on  the 
contrary,  she  had  told  him  in  distinct  but  gentle 
language  that  her  lines  and  his  lay  far  apart.  He  had 
accepted  her  dictum,  but  still  he  hovered  about  her, 
comforted  by  her  presence,  held  back  from  many  an 
imprudent  or  merciless  act  by  her  influence. 

When  he  came  to  her  now,  he  appeared  cast  down, 
although  he  knew  nothing  yet  of  her  determination  to 
leave  France.  Helene  observed  his  disquietude,  and 
inquired  the  cause  of  it. 

"The  sun  is  setting  upon  France,"  said  he,  sadly; 
"That  last  sigh  of  Marie  Antoinette  will  sound  in  every 
court  of  Europe,  and  wake  the  spirit  of  retribution  in 
the  breast  of  every  ruler.  The  death  of  Louis  XVI.  was 
a  mistake;  the  death  of  his  Queen  was  a  crime." 

333 


334  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

"Yes,"  exclaimed  Helena,  bitterly;  "and  a  crime 
which  France  will  expiate  with  misfortunes  and  humili- 
ations for  three  generations." 

"  I  fear  for  her  future,"  sighed  the  great  leader. 

Helene  informed  him  of  her  desire  to  leave  France 
at  once. 

"Ah,  you  are  going,  then?"  exclaimed  he,  drooping 
his  massive  head  upon  his  hand.  Then,  after  musing 
for  a  few  moments,  he  said,  in  a  troubled  voice: 

"With  you  departs  hope.  I  am  rushing  upon  a  dark 
fate;  my  life  is  going  out;  I  am  approaching  a  cata- 
clysm." 

A  shudder  passed  over  him;  he  seemed  to  feel  the 
edge  of  the  axe  which  within  a  half-year  was  to  rob 
him  of  life 

It  was  some  time  before  he  raised  his  head;  but  his 
features  had  then  resumed  the  look  of  boldness  so  often 
marked  by  those  who  watched  him  in  the  Convention. 

"  You  will  require  passports,"  said  he,  remembering 
that  she  had  sent  for  him. 

"  For  myself  and  my  household,"  answered  Helene, 
quietly. 

Danton  reflected  a  moment  and  said: 

"You  have  an  eccentric  acquaintance  named  Dumes- 
nil,  I  believe?" 

"Yes,"  replied  she,  regarding  him  with  some  uneasi- 
ness. 

"Does  he  accompany  you?" 

"He  is  anxious  to  go  to  England,"  returned  Helene; 
and  added,  "he  has  volunteered  to  go  in  my  escort 
until  the  frontier  is  crossed." 

"And  where  do  you  propose  to  cross?" 

"  At  a  point  near  Metz." 

Danton  regarded  her  with  surprise. 

"What,  you  go  to  Austria  or  Germany,  then?" 


HELENE  SAINTE    MAUR.  335 

"  I  shall  travel,  but  my  destination  is  Italy,  as  I 
usually  spend  my  winters  there.  I  wish  to  travel  for  a 
month  or  more  before  going  there,  however,  to  divert 
my  thoughts  from  the  recent  fearful  occurrences." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Danton,  gloomily;  "to-morrow  I 
will  send  you  passports  that  will  protect  you.  How 
many  will  accompany  you  besides  this  Monsieur  Dumes- 
nil?" 

Danton  was  thinking  of  her  servants,  and  not  of  the 
possibility  of  her  taking  others  with  her.  But  Helene 
answered: 

"  The  number  is  yet  uncertain.  Can  not  the  papers 
read  for  myself  and  household?" 

Danton  considered.  "  That  would  hardly  do,"  said 
he;  "I  will  make  them  for  yourself  and  ten  others,"  he 
concluded,  with  a  humorous  look;  "  that  will  certainly 
answer  all  your  requirements." 

Without  waiting  for  her  thanks,  he  took  her  hand, 
raised  it  to  his  lips,  and,  while  he  imprinted  upon  it  a 
fervid  kiss,  he  murmured: 

"  Farewell  ! " 

Then  he  left  her,  walking  from  the  boudoir  with  an 
agitated  step,  and  without  turning  his  head  to  look  at 
her,  as  he  passed  into  the  corridor. 

Sir  Philip  and  his  party,  with  the  exception  of 
Dumesnil,  were  still  in  the  Catacombs.  They  must  be 
communicated  with,  and  it  would  require  the  most  care- 
ful management  to  get  them  back  into  the  chateau. 
Helene  waited  for  the  passports  before  sending  for  the 
Captain.  They  came  about  noon  on  the  following  day, 
and  the  Captain  was  then  immediately  summoned.  He 
was  overjoyed  at  the  sight  of  the  papers.  It  only 
remained  now  to  assemble.  It  was  his  task  to  bring  the 
brothers,  with  their  servants,  to  the  chateau,  and,  after 
a  consultation  with  Helene,  he  decided  to  take  with 


336  HELENE    SAINTE   MAUR. 

him  six  outfits  for  as  many  workingmen,  the  sizes  to 
permit  the  clothing  to  be  worn  over  that  of  the  persons 
they  were  intended  for.  That  night  at  eleven  o'clock, 
Dumesnil  made  the  first  of  three  visits  which  were  neces- 
sary, since  to  have  carried  more  than  two  suits  of  the 
clothing  at  once  would  have  led  to  detection. 

At  twelve  o'clock  on  the  next  night  the  three  Eng- 
lishmen, Dumesnil,  Helene  and  Clarise,  and  the  three 
valets,  stood  in  the  boudoir,  the  windows  of  which  had 
been  closely  shuttered,  and  the  heavy  curtains  drawn. 

It  was  a  memorable  meeting,  a  solemn  convention. 
They  had  yet  to  pass  through  perils  that  would  threaten, 
confront,  follow,  or  surround  them  at  every  step  of  the 
route  to  the  Rhine.  At  the  porte  cochere  outside  stood  a 
berlin  and  four,  and  in  front  of  it  four  powerful  horses 
under  saddle.  The  hour  set  for  their  departure  was  twelve 
— midnight.  All  the  servants  had  that  day  been  sent 
away;  the  only  information  given  them  was  that  their 
mistress  was  on  the  eve  of  departure,  her  usual  custom  at 
this  season  of  the  year,  and  they  manifested  no  surprise. 
One  of  the  women,  however,  had  grumbled  considerably 
on  leaving,  a  housemaid  named  Jeannette.  This  girl 
had  shown  a  decidedly  inquisitive  disposition  since  she 
came  into  Helene's  service  a  few  months  previously,  and 
had  been  often  absent  from  the  chateau  without  giving 
any  satisfactory  reason  therefor.  Helene  would  have 
discharged  her  some  weeks  before  had  she  not  expected 
soon  to  dispense  with  all  her  help.  The  girl  was  the 
last  to  leave,  and  was  seen  by  Clarise,  who  looked  upon 
her  with  suspicion,  to  loiter  at  the  end  of  the  Square  for 
several  minutes,  standing  in  the  glare  of  the  lantern 
above  Her,  with  her  face  turned  steadfastly  toward  the 
chateau,  as  if  watching  it  with  some  sinister  purpose. 
When  she  disappeared  she  started  in  the  direction  of 
the  Pont  Royal,  northward. 


HELENE    SAINTE   MAUR.  337 

A  distant  church  bell  was  sounding  a  quarter  past 
twelve,  when  the  berlin,  followed  by  four  horsemen  (the 
three  brothers  and  Dumesnil,  who  were  attired  now  as 
domestic  servants)  moved  leisurely  out  of  the  court- 
house. The  sky  was  dimly  starred,  and  the  night 
shadowy  and  still.  Helene  and  Clarise  were  inside  the 
coach,  the  two  servants  of  Hubert  and  Ralph  Meltham 
were  on  the  box  beside  Guppy,  who  wore  the  livery  of 
Mademoiselle's  coachman.  Dumesnil's  costume  was 
that  of  a  footman,  that  of  Sir  Philip  had  belonged  to  her 
steward,  while  the  brothers  wore  the  livery  of  the 
grooms.  There  was  nothing  to  excite  suspicion  in  the 
appearance  or  departure  of  the  travelers,  after  they  had 
been  manipulated  by  Helene's  artistic  hands,  and  as  the 
passports  they  carried  were  signed  by  the  then  most 
powerful  man  in  all  France,  they  felt  comparatively  safe 
from  immediate  danger. 

Just  as  they  turned  into  the  boulevart  they  were 
startled  by  the  sound  of  footsteps  behind  them.  Some 
one  was  running  after  the  berlin.  They  could  now'hear 
him  breathing,  and — 

"  Hold  on!  "  came  the  next  instant,  and  a  dark  figure 
darted  alongside  of  the  coach,  and  grasped  the  handle 
of  the  door.  Guppy  drew  up  quickly,  and  called,  in  a 
subdued  voice: 

"  '  Ere  you !     Wot  are  you  capering  after,  come!  " 

But  Helene  had  recognized  Bompart,  who  had  thrust 
his  head  in  at  the  open  window. 

"Silence,  Guppy,'  called  she.     And  to  Bompart: 

"What  is  it,  Monsieur?' 

"Oh,  Mademoiselle,"  panted  the  young  man;  "do 
not  stop  here.  Let  me  get  into  the  coach  and  ride  along, 
while  I  tell  you  what  I  have  run  all  the  way  from  the 
Rue  St.  Denis  to  tell  you." 

"Get   in,  then,"  ordered  Helene,  vaguely   uneasy, 


338  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

but  absolutely  calm.  She  had  lived  too  long  in  the 
midst  of  dangers  and  alarms  to  lose  composure,  even  in 
the  face  of  them. 

Bompart  scrambled  into  the  berlin  and  seated  him- 
self by  the  side  of  Clarise.  The  berlin  started  forward 
again,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  entire  party  were  cross- 
ing the  Place  St.  Michel.  Bompart  had  recovered  his 
breath,  but  he  was  greatly  agitated,  and  it  was  only 
when  the  bridge  was  reached  that  he  was  able  to  pro- 
ceed. 

"Mademoiselle/' he  began,  "will  you  permit  me  to 
lower  the  blind  on  this  side? " 

"  Do  so,  if  you  think  it  necessary,"  replied  she,  won- 
dering at  his  manner.  In  a  moment  he  had  drawn  the 
curtain  and  sat  crouched  against  it,  as  if  he  feared  being 
seen  by  some  one  outside,  which  indeed  was  the  case. 

"Now,  Mademoiselle,  listen.  An  hour  ago  I  went 
to  the  office  of  the  Diligences,  in  the  Rue  St.  Denis, 
near  Filles-Dieu,  just  a  hundred  yards  from  where  we 
are  at  this  very  moment,  to  see  if  I  could  secure  a  seat 
for  Calais;  for  you  must  know  that  I  am  a  'suspect' 
since  yesterday,  and  have  been  hiding  by  keeping  away 
from  my  lodgings.  I  am  going  to  England,  or  any- 
where out  of  this  cursed  country.  Well,  pardon  me; 
it  is  not  of  this  of  which  I  have  to  speak.  So,  when  I 
found  that  there  would  be  no  diligence  leaving  for 
Calais  until  Friday,  I  sat  down  outside,  in  the  shadow 
of  the  Filles-Dieu,  to  think  what  I  should  do.  While  I 
sat  there  cuddled  on  a  stone  block,  two  men  came  up  to 
the  spot  and  stood  within  ten  feet  of  me.  I  kept  quite 
still,  trembling  with  apprehension,  but  it  was  too  dark 
for  them  to  see  me  in  the  shadow  there.  Well,  they 
began  to  talk  in  low  tones  to  each  other,  and  in  a  min- 
ute or  two  I  discovered  by  his  voice  that  one  of  them 


HELENE    SAINTE    MAUR.  339 

was  that  Marquis  of  B .  He  was  saying  to  the 

other: 

"  'Are  you  certain  that  she  is  going  to-night?' 

"  And  the  other  one  answered,  '  I  saw  the  girl  Jean- 
nette  herself  two  hours  ago.  I  said  to  her  that  I  hoped 
she  had  something  to  tell  me,  and  I  gave  her  the  weekly 
wages,  although  she  had  not  yet  earned  any.  Jeannette 
answered  that  she  had  very  important  news;  that  with- 
out a  doubt  her  mistress  would  leave  Paris  at  midnight, 
on  her  way  out  of  France,  provided  with  passports  for 
herself,  that  Captain  Dumesnil,  and  her  servants.  That 
all  the  servants  she  did  not  want  had  been  to-day  dis- 
missed, and  the  chateau  was  at  that  moment  as  dark,  as 
silent,  as  empty  as  the  Bastille.  That  Mademoiselle 
goes  to  Metz,  and  will  travel  through  the  Rhenish 
country  and  through  Austria,  and  will  finally  go  to 
Italy  for  the  winter.' 

"  The  Marquis  listened  to  this  with  a  great  deal  of 
interest,  and,  from  his  constantly  moving  his  hands  in  a 
nervous  manner,  I  judged  he  was  greatly  excited.  When 
the  man  finished  telling  him,  he  said,  earnestly:  '  Come, 
then,  let  us  take  seats  in  the  diligence  for  Metz.  Fortu- 
nately, Sunday  is  one  of  its  leaving  days,  and,  as  the  dili- 
gence is  to  start  at  twelve,  we  are  in  time.  Have  you  the 
passports? ' 

"'Yes,  my  lord/  the  man  replied,  'and  I  think  I 
made  a  capital  imitation  of  Robespierre's  signature. 
Lucky  that  we  had  some  of  his  old  letters  about  that 
Dudevant  scandal,  and  his  seal,  pardieu;  otherwise,  I  do 
not  believe  we  could  have  succeeded.  ' 

"  Then,"  concluded  Bompart,  "  they  moved  off  toward 
the  diligence  office,  and  I  heard  no  more  of  their  con- 
versation. No  sooner  were  they  out  of  sight,  than  I 
started  to  come  to  you  as  fast  as  my  legs  would  take 
me,  I  thought  perhaps  you  would  desire  that  excel- 


34°  HELENE    SAINTE   MAUR. 

lent  Duroc  to  pursue  the  Marquis  and  capture  him. 
You  see  I  could  not  denounce  him  myself,  and,  besides, 
Mademoiselle,  it  was  you  who  ought  to  know  at  once 
that  he  has  some  new  plot  on  foot." 

Helene  had  said  nothing  to  interrupt  this  narrative, 
and  her  countenance  expressed  no  emotion.  Her  lips 
were  compressed,  and  her  eyes  assumed  a  sterness  rarely 
seen  in  them,  and  that  was  all. 

"I  am  greatly  obliged  to  you,  sir,"  she  said,  in  a  com- 
posed voice,  "  for  the  trouble  you  have  taken  to  inform 
me  of  this.  And  now,  may  I  ask  what  you  intend  doing 
for  yourself?  If  you  are  sought  for,  and  are  still  in 
Paris,  you  will  undoubtedly  be  found  ;  and  to  be  found 
is  to  be  doomed." 

"  Ah,  Mademoiselle,"  exclaimed  Bompart,  shudder- 
ing at  the  danger  of  his  position,  "  I  am  only  too  well 
convinced  of  that.  Well,  will  you  advise  me?" 

"  Poor  fellow,"  murmured  Clarise,  who  thought  of 
Paul  at  the  moment. 

But  Bompart  turned  toward  Clarise  with  a  face  glow- 
ing with  gratitude  : 

"  Oh!  you  sympathize  with  me  ;  do  you  not?" 

Helene  had  been  thinking  rapidly.  This  young  man's 
life  would  certainly  be  sacrificed  to  the  universal  thirst 
for  blood  if  he  remained  another  day  in  Paris.  And  it 
was  perhaps  in  her  power  to  save  him.  Her  resolution 
was  taken. 

"Monsieur  Bompart,"  said  she,  "  I  have  passports 
for  myself  and  household,  to  the  number  of  eleven.  We 
number  only  ten  ;  there  is  fortunately  one  vacancy,  by 
the  merest  chance.  I  will  attach  you  to  my  suite  as  my 
private  secretary,  and  you  will  pass  under  the  nom  de 
plume  of  Alfred  Verdalle.  Remain,  therefore,  where  you 
are,  and  do  not  forget  your  position,  and  especially  your 
name — Verdalle." 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  341 

This  sudden  and  wonderful  escape  from  the  gravest 
dilemma  Bompart  had  ever  encountered  overwhelmed 
him  with  surprise,  gratitude  and  joy.  He  sank  on  his 
knees,  and,  seizing  Helene's  gloved  hand,  pressed  it  to 
his  lips,  murmuring,  while  his  eyes  filled  : 

"Ah,  Mademoiselle,  you  are  my  benefactress;  you 
shall  command  me  to  die  for  you,  and  I  will  do  it!  " 

The  tender  little  heart  of  Clarise  was  touched.  She 
placed  her  hand  upon  the  shoulder  of  Bompart,  and 
whispered: 

"  I  am  very  glad.  You  are  a  lucky  person,  Monsieur 
Bompart." 

Bompart  moved  closer  to  Clarise,  and,  looking  at 
her  with  a  smile  of  profound  appreciation,  exclaimed: 

"  Ciel,  I  should  say  so! " 

At  that  moment  the  berlin,  which  was  now  rolling 
on  at  a  very  rapid  rate  of  speed,  followed  by  the  four 
riders  at  a  gallop,  passed  the  Metz  diligence.  A  man's 
head  was  thrust  out  of  the  window  next  to  Helene,  and, 
by  the  light  of  the  berlin's  lantern,  she  saw  the  face  of 
the  Marquis  of  B — scowling  at  her  escort  behind.  At 
the  same  instant  Clarise,  who  had  been  looking  up  at 
the  driver's  seat,  smothered  a  cry,  and  shrunk  back  in 
her  corner. 

"Good  Heavens,  Mademoiselle/'  she  whispered, 
"  there  is  Barbaroux!  " 


CHAPTER   XLII. 

ON  THE  MOSELLE. 

The  waters  ot  the  blue  Moselle  were  dancing  in  the 
bosom  of  the  Alsatian  valley,  catching  the  gold  of  the 
October  sun,  and  throwing  it  back  in  moulten  waves. 
On  the  wind-swept  current  a  white  sail  spread  its  arms 
like  the  wings  of  a  huge  albatross;  and  under  the  shift- 
ing shadow  sat  the  travelers  whom  we  left  in  the  streets 
of  Paris  speeding  toward  Metz. 

At  that  historic  town  they  had  chartered  a  boat  to 
carry  them  to  the  mouth  of  the  Moselle,  at  Coblentz; 
and  they  were  now  approaching  the  fortifications  of 
that,  the  strongest  of  Prussia's  frontier  towns.  Already 
they  could  see,  rising  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Rhine 
and  overlooking  Coblentz,  the  fortress  of  Ehrenbreit- 
stein  perched  on  its  vaulting  rock,  hundreds  of  feet 
above  the  river.  The  forest-crowned  Vosges  stretched 
away  in  purple  distance,  and  a  land  of  peace  spread  its 
smiling  fields  to  the  right,  as  they  sailed  on  the  mur- 
murous river. 

Such  a  throng  of  awful  memories  were  passing  in  the 
minds  of  the  travelers,  that  they  spoke  not,  but  sat  in 
quiet  reverie,  reviewing — with  little  prayers  of  thank- 
fulness that  they  were  over — the  blood-red  scenes,  the 
Hadean  tragedies  they  had  witnessed,  in  the  land  of  rev- 
olution. It  was  past ;  and  as  this  happy  conviction 
came  back  to  Clarise,  her  white  throat  suddenly  swelled 
with  sound,  and  over  the  joyous  river  rippled  the  music 
of  a  song.  On  the  banks  where  the  boatmen  were  dry- 

342 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  343 

ing  their  sails,  in  the  fields  where  the  harvesters  were 
gathering  the  grain,  on  the  hill-sides  where  the  shepherds 
were  watching  their  browsing  herds,  the  song  of  thanks- 
giving made  them  pause  to  listen,  as  it  throbbed  on  the 
autumn  air. 

Then  there  was  silence  again,  but  the  melody  dying 
in  the  distant  hills  re-echoed  again  and  again  in  the 
grateful  hearts  of  those  who  were  fleeing  forever  from 
the  land  of  storm  and  blood. 

Closer  and  swifter,  as  it  felt  the  deepening  current 
of  the  river  hastening  to  its  union  with  the  Rhine,  the 
white-sailed  boat  sped  down  upon  the  bustling  town,  and 
every  eye  was  turned  toward  the  rock  of  Ehrenbreitstein. 

Sir  Philip  sat  at  the  side  of  Helene,  musing.  He  had 
been  silent  so  long  that  she  bent  a  curious  glance  upon 
him. 

"Will  you  awake  before  we  arrive  ?  "  asked  she. 

He  returned  her  smile,  and  taking  her  hand  with  a 
tenderness  that  brought  a  blush  to  her  cheek, 

"  Do  you  see  the  Rhine  yonder,  how  it  leaps  and 
sparkles  when  the  Moselle  sinks  into  its  embrace  ?  Ah, 
surely,  you  must  be  weary  of  the  isolation  you  imposed 
upon  your  heart.  You  have  seen  the  great,  how  they 
were  bowed  to  the  dust  in  shame;  how  they  were  racked 
with  the  agony  of  death;  how  they  fell  from  the  top- 
most heights  of  power  into  an  abyss.  And  the  shame, 
the  agony,  the  ruin — were  they  not  caused  solely  by 
ambition  ?  Believe  me,  it  is  sweeter  to  be  human  than 
to  be  god-like  with  human  attributes.  I  have  waited 
long;  I  have  followed  you  far;  let  us  rest;  let  us  rest ! " 

He  raised  her  hand  to  his  lips,  and  he  felt  it  tremble; 
he  looked  into  her  eyes,  and  he  saw  them  droop;  he 
whispered  a  word,  and  her  mouth  quivered.  She  turned 
her  head  from  him,  but  her  hand  lay  still  in  his.  Was 
she  yielding  to  her  lord  at  last  ? 


344  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

The  Saxon  blood  in  Belmore's  veins  was  once  more 
leaping  through  them  as  madly  as  when  he  first  drew 
sword  for  her  behind  the  convent  at  Boulogne;  but  how 
different  were  his  emotions  now  !  It  was  love  that 
stirred  it  now;  and  heaven,  he  believed,  was  opening 
before  him.  Burning  words  were  springing  to  his  lips, 
when — 

"Look!  Oh,  look!" 

This  cry,  breaking  suddenly  from  Clarise,  who  sat  in 
the  bow  of  the  boat,  with  finger  pointed  up  the  river, 
and  eyes  staring  in  affright  at  what  she  saw,  brought  Sir 
Philip  out  of  his  dream,  as  it  woke  the  others  from 
their  sweet  reveries. 

For  some  time,  perhaps  half  an  hour,  they  had 
noticed  another  boat  with  two  sails  gliding  down  behind 
them,  and  rapidly  overtaking  their  own.  But  two  men 
were  visible  on  the  deck,  and  these  two  had  appeared 
to  be  making  superhuman  efforts  to  increase  their  speed. 
At  the  moment  that  Clarise  cried  out,  this  boat  had  run 
close  to  the  stern  of  theirs,  and,  as  it  veered  to  the  right, 
a  dozen  ruffianly  fellows  suddenly  threw  off  a  huge  sail- 
cloth under  which  they  had  been  hid,  and  sprang  to 
the  side  of  their  vessel,  brandishing  cutlasses  in  their 
powerful  hands. 

Both  the  boats  at  this  time  were  close  to  the  side  of 
the  river  farthest  from  the  town;  the  bank  itself  was  not 
more  than  twenty  feet  distant;  and  the  city  was  hidden 
from  view.  It  was  an  isolated  inlet,  from  the  heel  of 
which  rose  precipitately  the  hill  of  Ehrenbreitstein.  The 
sun  had  just  left  its  last  beam  quivering  on  the  waters, 
and  deep  shadows  were  closing  over  the  spot. 

The  quick  glance  that  followed  Clarise's  cry  revealed 
enough  to  bring  every  one  in  the  forward  boat  to  his 
feet,  and  every  sword  from  its  concealment.  On  the 
deck  of  the  hindmost  vessel  stood  the  Marquis  of  B ,  a 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  345 

Cutlass  in  one  hand,  a  pistol  in  the  other,  in  the  midst  of 
a  crew  of  ruffians  which,   too  plainly,  he  had  hired  to 
pursue  and  capture  his  fleeing  enemies.     His  face  was 
inflamed  with    passions  at  once  demoniac  and  joyous; 
and  his  voice  rang  out  with  triumph  as  he  shouted: 
"Surrender,  if  you  would  save  your  lives!  " 
But  Dumesnil,  standing  in   front  of  the   rest,  sent 
back  a  warning  which  kindled  a  flame  of  fury  in  the 
breast  of  the  renegade  nobleman: 

"Scoundrel !  Do  you  still  wish  to  lose  your  ears?" 
"Board  them!"    shouted  the  Marquis,  brandishing 
his  cutlas,  and  aiming  his  pistol  at  the  skipper's  breast; 
"  board  them,  and  spare  none  of  the  men.     Take  the 
women  alive.     Forward!" 

In  the  midst  of  his  crew  he  sprang  upon  the  rail,  and 
at  the  same  instant  fired  at  Dumesnil;  but  the  bullet 
went  wide  of  its  mark,  for  the  latter  had  darted  forward 
to  cut  down  the  foremost  of  the  assassins,  whom  he  sent 
shrieking  and  dying  over  the  gunwale.  Sir  Philip  was 
advancing  upon  the  Marquis,  the  brothers  had  rushed 
to  the  side  of  their  own  vessel  to  repel  the  boarders,  and 
the  valets  with  Bompart,  at  a  shout  from  Dumesnil, 
were  taking  in  the  sails.  Before  the  deck  was  invaded 
it  was  cleared  for  action,  and,  after  Guppy  had  hurried 
Helene  and  Clarise  down  into  a  little  cabin  below  deck, 
the  whole  force  stood,  sword  in  hand,  at  the  side  of  the 
careening  pinnace.  Then  ensued  as  fierce  a  struggle 
as  ever  left  its  victims  in  the  bosom  of  the  beautiful 
river.  Fifteen  fierce  and  merciless  hirelings,  headed  by  an 
infuriated  madman,  with  the  yells  of  fiends,  leaped  over 
the  rails  of  the  two  vessels,  and,  landing  upon  the  deck, 
bore  down  with  unparalleled  fury  on  the  eight  men  who 
had  gathered  to  oppose  them.  The  fight  was  hand  to 
hand,  breast  to  breast,  at  the  beginning  of  the  onset, 
and  thus  there  was  little  advantage  in  the  skill  of  the 


346  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

lesser  over  the  brawn  of  the  greater  force.  But,  fortu- 
nately for  our  friends,  Dumesnil's  enormous  strength 
soon  cleared  a  space  around  him,  into  which  his  com- 
panions gathered,  forming  a  circle  with  faces  outward, 
and  the  odds  became  less  terrible.  The  play  of  Bel- 
more's  sword  was  continuous,  and  thrice  he  drove  it 
into  the  arm  or  bosom  of  an  assailant.  Hubert  and 
Ralph  did  noble  work,  and  succeeded  in  cutting  down 
two  of  the  ruffians;  and  Bompart,  although  but  a  fair 
swordsman,  felt  his  arm  nerved  by  the  thought  of 
Clarise,  and  held  one  of  the  sailors  at  bay.  Guppy  and 
his  fellow-valets,  unskilled  in  the  use  of  sword,  wrapped 
the  sleeves  of  their  jackets,  which  they  tore  off,  around 
the  blades,  and  with  the  heavy  hilts  dealt  tremendous 
blows  upon  the  skulls  of  their  adversaries,  until  both 
Grosscup  and  Trotter  were  run  through  by  thrusts  that 
were  mortal. 

The  only  pistol  in  the  hands  of  either  side  was  that 
of  the  Marquis;  and  when  it  failed  upon  Dumesnil  he 
threw  it  into  the  river,  with  a  curse,  and  hurled  himself 
forward,  cutlas  in  hand,  vociferating  his  ferocious 
orders  to  his  band  of  cut-throats. 

The  contest  had  lasted  for  nearly  half  an  hour;  the 
echoes  were  rumbling  among  the  hills,  as  steel  struck 
steel,  and  yell  answered  yell.  In  vain  had  Sir  Philip 
pressed  toward  the  Marquis,  across  the  deck.  The 
boards  were  slippery  with  blood,  the  combatants  were 
huddled  in  one  writhing  mass,  now  at  one  point,  now 
at  another,  while  the  leader  of  the  gang  darted  among 
them,  stabbing,  slashing,  shouting  and  cursing,  but 
always  eluding  the  man  who  followed  him  from  place 
to  place  with  the  persistency  of  fate. 

At  last  the  baronet  thought  he  had  his  arch-enemy 
where  he  could  not  escape;  and  was  rushing  toward 
him  to  impale  him,  as  he  surely  would  have  done,  when 


HELENE   SAINTE    MAUR.  347 

a  voice  of  command  was   heard  descending  from  the 
rocky  height,  and  every  hand  was  stayed. 

"Peace  on  your  lives?  " 

The  blood-shot  eyes  of  the  men  were  upturned,  and, 
to  their  astonishment  and  the  dismay  of  the  Marquis' 
band,  they  saw  a  hundred  muskets  pointed  at  them. 

An  officer  in  a  roquelaure  stood  a  few  steps  lower 

down,  and  in  front  of  the  detachment,  holding  his  sword 

above  his  head  while  he  shouted  to  the  combatants  to 

,  desist;  and  as  soon  as  the  fighting  ceased,  he  gave  the 

order. 

"  Forward  by  twos,  march!"  and  led  his  men  rapidly 
down  the  steep. 

In  five  minutes  the  soldiers  had  possession  of  both 
boats  and  their  occupants.  The  Marquis,  who  had 
made  an  effort  to  leap  overboard,  was  seized,  his  arms 
pinioned  behind,  and  a  guard  placed  over  him.  Then 
an  inventory  of  the  casualties  was  taken. 

Four  of  the  Marquis'  crew  had  been  killed  outright, 
and  six  of  the  remainder  seriously  or  fatally  wounded. 
Of  Sir  Philip's  party,  not  one  except  himself  had 
escaped  a  wound.  Dumesnil  had  received  a  severe 
thrust  in  the  left  shoulder,  Hubert  and  Ralph  had  each 
the  marks  of  the  cutlas  on  their  arms,  Bompart  was  cut 
on  both  arms  slightly,  while  Guppy  bore  testimony  to 
his  having  been  at  close  quarters  with  a  pike,  with 
which  one  of  the  sailors  had  literally  torn  his  coat  in 
two,  and  scraped  a  broad  furrow  across  his  breast.  The 
two  friends,  who  had  for  the  last  time  fought  with  him, 
lay  on  their  backs  on  deck,  pierced  to  the  heart.  Guppy 
stooped  over  them  reverently,  took  their  lifeless  hands 
in  his  and  told  them  farewell  in  tones  as  pathetic  as  they 
were  quaint.  A  detail  of  four  soldiers  was  left  in 
charge  of  the  boats,  with  orders  to  bury  the  dead,  and 
attend  to  the  wounded  until  a  relief  party  and  a  sur- 


34  HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR. 

geon  could  be  sent  to  them;  and  then  the  surviving  bel- 
ligerents preceded  their  escort  up  the  path  that  led  to 
the  fortress. 

The  leader  of  the  troops  heard  from  Sir  Philip  on 
the  way  the  story  of  the  fight.  He  was  a  courteous  and 
sensible  man,  and  he  did  not  hesitate  to  express  his 
indignation  at  the  fiendish  conduct  of  the  Marquis  of 

B ,  who  stalked  sullenly  between  his  guards,  casting 

from  time  to  time  at  Helene,  who  walked  at  the  side  of 
Sir  Philip,  looks  of  the  most  furious  and  malignant 
hate.  Bompart  had  taken  Clarise  under  his  protection; 
and  in  this  fashion  the  castle  was  reached. 

It  was  almost  night  when  the  frowning  walls  of  the 
friendly  fortress  held  our  tired  and  wounded  travelers; 
but  the  old  Roman  stronghold  never  held  more  grateful 
hearts  nor  more  peaceful  sleepers  than  on  this  night 
which  brought  their  perilous  adventures  to  an  end. 

On  the  morning  following,  while  Sir  Philip  and 
Helene  walked  hand-in-hand  through  the  chapel-room, 
used  of  old  by  the  knights  who  sojourned  in  the  castle, 
a  graybearded  priest,  sandaled  and  gaberdined,  came 
slowly  toward  them.  His  kindly  face,  seamed  with  the 
honorable  scars  of  Time,  was  turned  upon  them  smil- 
ingly; and,  as  his  wrinkled  hand  was  outstretched  to 
welcome  them,  he  said: 

"It  seems  to  me  old  Ehrenbreitstein  will  celebrate 
some  noble  nuptials  soon;  and  that  I,  Fathef  Mant- 
chein,  sacristan,  will  bid  ye  Godspeed  as  ye  leave 
together!" 

At  that  moment  two  guards  were  passing  the  wide 
entrance  with  a  prisoner  between  them,  on  their  way  to 
the  commandant.  The  prisoner  was  the  Marquis  of 

B ;  and  as  he  glanced  into  the  chapel  at  the  three  so 

suggestively  grouped  there,  he  uttered  a  terribly  cry, 
and  was  dragged  along  by  his  guards  to  hear  the  judg- 


HELENE   SAINTE   MAUR.  349 

ment  pronounced  upon  him  for  the  crimes  he  had  per- 
petrated and  incited  on  German  territory. 

The  October  sun  looked  into  the  old  chapel  of 
Ehrenbreitstein,  while  this  was  passing,  and  rested  like 
a  crown  of  gold  upon  two  noble  heads,  as  they  bent  in 
prayer  at  the  little  altar  of  stone. 


THE  END. 


